


The Trouble with Courting Hobbits

by possiblyHobbits



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- No One Ring, Angst, Bilbo is the queen of sass, F/M, Female Bilbo, Fluff, Hobbit Courting, Like super duper fluff going on here, M/M, Pining, Thorin being a stupid idiot, dwarven courting, mild violence/gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1274803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possiblyHobbits/pseuds/possiblyHobbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belladonna Took-Baggins was a hero to the dwarven people, helping the exiled king Thror reclaim the Kingdom of Erebor. But back in the Shire, over 25 years later, she was now facing a task more frightening than any dragon; suitors were coming for her daughter, Bella Baggins, better known as Bilbo.</p><p>Thror, grandfather of Thorin, King Under the Mountain, had given his eldest grandson a very simple task, to visit the hobbit, who had helped them reclaim Erebor. But the prince was not expecting to run into a fiery young hobbit lass, known simply as Bilbo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Belladonna and Bungo and Bella

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely a work for me to indulge in my OTP. 
> 
> Belladonna was the hobbit who helped reclaim Erebor and Thror was the exiled king. Thorin was a prince and Fili and Kili weren't involved since they were too young to go on the journey, but they'll show up later I promise. The rest of the company stays the same and there's no change in the events of The Hobbit, except everyone surviving and there being no One Ring. It's fluff for the sake of fluff.
> 
> I will try to update as much as possible, but I go to college full-time and I have a full-time job so it might be a while between updates.

 

It wasn’t even a full day after she came of age when a strange grey wizard came knocking at her door. Belladonna Took had no idea what answering the door that beautiful morning in early autumn meant for her, but being a Took, she dove into it with very little questions asked.

It certainly wasn’t the first adventure she had been on, but this was definitely the one that took her furthest from home and the one that had very nearly cost her life.

Twelve dwarves piled into dining room that fateful evening, telling stories of a kingdom far away, a kingdom lost to them because of a terrible dragon named Smaug. Needless to say, no matter how much the dwarves described how many different ways she could possibly die on this venture, she still signed her life away on the contract, given to her by an older dwarf with a mane of white hair; the one called Balin.

At dawn the company set forth, following the valiant king by the name of Thror. Or better known as the exiled king of Erebor. He was strong and regal, always looking the part despite his current circumstances, but it was that air about him that commanded such respect from the other dwarves in the company, including the dwarf who looked very much like him.

This young dwarf was named Thorin, Thrain’s eldest son, grandson of Thror, one of three siblings in the Line of Durin. The other two were not allowed to join in the quest because they were raising families. Thorin was very much like his father, but his features were certainly more attractive than his father’s. She didn’t speak much to the prince during the course of their journey, and she was now suddenly wishing she had.

With the dragon defeated, the treasure split between the dwarves, the Men of Dale, and the King of the Greenwood –or as the dwarves liked to call him, King Tree-Shagger-, Belladonna Took returned home with Gandalf, despite many pleas for her to stay in Erebor. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but more that she had unfinished business back home in the Shire that needed tending to before she made arrangements to stay in the dwarven kingdom.

Almost as soon as she returned, she was met by a hobbit lad named Bungo Baggins, who had been waiting the entire year and several months that she was gone. Waiting that entire time to ask young, beautiful, world-wild Belladonna Took if she would like some of the bluebells he had been growing in his extravagant garden.

And to summarize three years of mutual awkward blundering in the hobbit courtship ritual, Bungo and Belladonna were married and settled in the enormous hobbit hole called Bag End. And in the following spring, a child was born in Bag End.

Her name was Bella Baggins.

In the years since her return to the Shire and her daughter growing into a fauntling with ceaseless energy that had her and Bungo chasing the small girl around Hobbiton, letters from Erebor were scarce and one year, when wee Bella had turned five, stopped completely.

The disappearance of letters from her friends in Erebor didn’t bother her as much as it should have. Belladonna’s heart was filled with joy and bliss with her loving husband and her troublemaker daughter. But still, she longed to see Erebor once more, to show her daughter and husband where her adventures had taken her.

In the end, she settled for telling stories.

 

* * *

 

 

When Bella was sixteen, Belladonna was woken from her dozing in the living room by loud banging on the door.

“Aye, I’m comin’ so don’t you dare break my door,” she called, slipping out of Bungo’s embrace she had been tucked in on the couch and walking to the door, pulling it open too quickly.

Obviously her shouting and aggressive door opening had scared the young hobbit lad in front of her, a boy about the same age as her own daughter.

“Good afternoon, Lotho Sackville-Baggins. What can I do for you?” she asked the tween hobbit lad.

“I was lookin’ for Bilbo,” the boy replied plainly. Belladonna knew that the boy, much like his hag of a mother, had no manners.

“Bilbo isn’t here right now. I can tell her you stopped by.”

That did not seem to please the young Sackville-Baggins, but he went away in any case.

Belladonna should have taken it as a very early hint of what was to come. That the day Bilbo came into her twenty-seventh year, crowds of boys would follow her around Hobbiton. Suitors would leave flowers around the house, slip some into the mailbox and letters would be slipped under the bright green door of the house at the top of Bagshot Row.

Bilbo, properly known as Bella, was not thrilled by any of these actions. In fact she had taken to shouting that she would sooner shave the tops of her feet than marry. She was still so young, much more beautiful than her mother as she inherited her father’s deep brown eyes, but her mind was set, especially when three little cousins began joining her in her adventures around the Shire.

Every morning after breakfast, she would pack a bag of food enough for second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon, and afternoon tea, but they were always home before dinner and supper. Then she would disappear down Bagshot Row to gather the Took cousin, the Brandybuck cousin and the Gamgee boy. The boys were Paladin Took, Saradoc Brandybuck, and Hamfast Gamgee, though Hamfast was the only one of the group who had any sense according to the neighbors.

Belladonna was happy that her daughter was never home when the suitors came calling and she had time dispose of any evidence of their visitings. It was rude, yes, but she respected her daughter’s wishes. She wouldn’t force her to think of something she had years to think over still, but then again Bilbo may not ever change her mind about marriage.

That was when a letter arrived in the mail from a writer who was very far away. She recognized her name in the familiar handwriting, even though it had been nearly thirty years since she had last seen it. Opening the letter hastily, she read it carefully:

_Miss Belladonna,_

_Our friend and burglar, it has been much too long since we’ve written to you. Even longer since we’ve seen you. We hope you are well, especially the King_

_Anyway, to the real reason why I’m writing this letter._

_A trading party from Erebor will be passing close to the Shire in the coming weeks and several members of our old company will be with the party and have somehow got it in their heads that they should come and check on you, since it’s been so long._

_Hope all is well and wish you the best,_

_Balin, son of Fundin_

“Oh dear…” Belladonna sighed, clutching the letter to her chest. Her friends were coming to visit and she had no idea what to do or how much food she should buy. Moving with haste, she hurried into her study and set to work on making a list of things to do before the trading party arrived.

 

* * *

  

 

Bella Baggins, better known to Hobbiton as Bilbo, was a very unhobbit-like young lass. Barely out of her tweens and on the threshold of adulthood, she was a spark of fire in the sleepy little town. At twenty-seven, she was a picture of loveliness to all of the soon to be eligible bachelors, but was somewhat of a menace to the adults. Adventurous and wild, she was always leading three boys through the hills of the Shire. She came home caked in mud, sometimes looking like she had gotten into a fight or had disappeared into the wild for days and no one noticed.

Though it didn’t stop the suitors one bit.

Day in and day out, they would pile flowers and letters of intent at Bag End, but they would all go with no reply. Then she thought up the idea to put a bouquet of carnations on the deep green door of her home; the flowers meant to symbolize rejection. That had deterred the less dedicated, but it took her shouting in the market place that she would punch the next person to declare their love to her and that she would sooner shave the tops of her feet than marry to scare off a good majority of the remaining bachelors.

Her parents supported her no matter what, even allowing her to look after her young cousins and neighbor. Together they would play out adventures in the rolling green hills of the Shire, pretending that the world of adult responsibilities was still far away. It was for Saradoc, Paladin and Hamfast, but for Bilbo, it was just a few years away.

After a long day of play adventures and laughs, Bilbo led the trio of boys to their homes, wishing them all good evenings and heading back up Bagshot Row from the Gamgee smial to her own.

Her father was resting on the bench in the garden, watching the sun set behind the hills of their Shire lands, a pipe lazing about on his lips, but the aging hobbit seemed to have no interest in smoking it.

“Da? What’s going on?” Bilbo asked, opening the front gate and heading up to the bench to her father.

“Oh. Your mum received a letter today from those friends she went adventuring with all those years ago. Apparently some of them will be visitin’ in a few weeks.” He almost regretted telling his only child right away, but the way his daughter’s eyes lit up with excitement and joy of meeting foreign travelers made him decide it was alright. His daughter was as wild as her mother, probably even more so. Belladonna hadn’t exactly threatened the hair on her feet when overwhelmed by suitors.

“The dwarves mum traveled with are really coming here?” she asked, her voice cracking with the feelings bursting through the smile gracing her lips. She really was like her mother in more ways than he knew, but her cleverness and knack for gardening was something she got from her father.

“Some of them, dear-heart. Your mum’s been going crazy with tryin’ to figure out what she needs to do to prepare for their visit. Why don’t you go help- after you clean up, though. Looks like you feel in a mud puddle!”

Bilbo grinned, dragging her fingers through her mud soaked curls. “A’right da. We’ll call when dinner is ready.”

Bungo watched his girl disappear inside the house, watching little clumps of mud fall off her clothes as she walked.

He was reminded briefly of how much he wanted to see grandchildren, his grandchildren before he got too old to help his daughter raise her tiny fauntlings. But the girl was so set against marriage, he doubted that she would ever have grandchildren. Then again she was happy, and that was the only thing that mattered right now; his Bilbo’s happiness.

He watched the sun finally set completely, taking a soft puff on his pipe before putting it out. He never was much of a smoker, but sometimes it was relaxing, especially in times like these where he got to thinking too much about the future. He wished he could live in the moment like Bilbo and Belladonna, but he didn’t want to steal that spark that made the two of them so unique among hobbit women.

Over dinner, he watched Bilbo happily munching on her dinner, honey-colored curls framing her face and falling down her back, glinting in the light of the candles in the dining room. Someday, he hoped to his son-in-law joining them at this table.

Supper passed in a similar manner and Bilbo went off to bed. That’s when Bungo went to Belladonna.

She was taking her hair down from all of her kitchen work, setting her pins gently down on the vanity in their bedroom.

He snuck up on her, snaking his arms around his wife and wrapping her up in a warm embrace. Belladonna giggled, relaxing into her husband.

“Something is on your mind, my Belladonna…”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to hide it from you, but yeah, I’m bothered…” she sighed, turning around in his arms and resting her forehead on his shoulder. “I just want to know, why now…? Why after nearly thirty years they’re coming to visit. I’m not the hobbit who ran out the door with them to fight a dragon and go on wild adventures…”

“They had a whole kingdom to rebuild and stabilize… I’m sure if they could have come sooner then they would’ve…”

“They’ll probably be shocked at how domestic I am now…” she laughed weakly.

“And if they give you trouble for that-”

“-whack ‘em with the best fryin’ pan.”

“Amazin’ how Lobelia Sackville-Baggins hasn’t shown her face since Bilbo did that to her lad.”

“More amazin’ that the lad’s nose healed as much as it did.”

“He deserved it though.”

“What was it over, again? I’ve forgotten.”

“Peekin’ in on ‘er while she was changin’ clothes,” Bungo recalled, remembering how furious his little daughter had been at finding Lotho Sackville-Baggins peeking in through her window. She threw on her house-robe, grabbed the frying pan that had been drying on the kitchen counter and went outside to punish the peeking bastard. The incident had added to many more reasons why Belladonna and Bungo despised the Sackville-Bagginses. And it was another reason why Bilbo hated all of her suitors and shunned marriage.

Belladonna swore under her breath, but then laughed. And soon Bungo joined her in the laugh, but inside he wanted her to express all of her joys and happiness to her old friends. He hoped she could feel his wishes for her.


	2. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Baggins family has some visitors, Lotho Sackville-Baggins is up to some harebrained scheme, and Bilbo and her charges have a run in with Farmer Maggot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Edit: 7-3-14): I've gone back and edited things and cleaned them up since this was originally posted.

It had been nearly three weeks since Balin’s letter had been sent to the Shire. Now four dwarves astride ponies were making their way down the Great East Road.

The trip certainly held a lot of memories for the group of their dear hobbit friend, her laughs and her wild nature that unsettled even the youngest of the Company. She was the light of their group and even in the darkest moments of their journey back to Erebor, even when doubt was slung her way and it seemed hopeless, she was stronger than even the most heavily armored and weaponed dwarf.

Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, and heir to the throne of Erebor led the way. His grandfather had convinced him to come on the venture to see their old friend, much to the prince’s displeasure. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the hobbit, per say, it was more like he hadn’t become close to her as the others had.

Then there was the other matter of his presence on his journey with the trading party to Ered Luin. His grandfather desired to see him find a darrowdam to court in the sister dwarf kingdom. Never once had he expressed any desire to court, but still he was dragged on this trip in hopes that he’d come home with a bride.

It wasn’t as if Thorin was an ugly dwarf, on the contrary, he was a regal and strong, with a fine beard and thick black hair. Any darrowdam who caught sight at him would swoon, even a few daughters of Men, and the occasional male darrow. He just had no interest in marrying or courting. He preferred his time alone; the time he could spend at a forge or reading in the library filled with long forgotten dwarven texts.

But no, he was on the back of a pony, riding towards the Shire, with Bofur, Dwalin, and young Ori, who was ever so keen to learn about the other realms and the people who inhabited them.

They hadn’t seen a single soul since leaving Bree the previous morning. The emptiness of the forest around them was louder than the light conversation between the members of the group. Even the sounds of wildlife were rare, especially as the forest thinned out and was replaced by tall stalks of corn growing on either side of the road.

The company came to a halt and Bofur sighed from the back of the group.

“I don’t remember coming through a corn field the last time we were ‘ere.”

“I think we’re lost…” Ori mumbled.

“Aye,” Dwalin agreed.

And Thorin wanted to find a nice hard rock to hit his head against.

But the thought was dispersed at the sounds of barking and shouting coming from the northern portion of the field. Rustling in the corn immediately set off battle instincts in the three who had fought in the Battle of Five Armies, leaving Ori very confused and scared.

The sounds came closer and closer until not one, but three little lads popped out of the corn between the group of dwarves.

“Blimey…” Bofur murmured, staring down at the kids, who hadn’t taken notice of the foreign presence, but instead were looking into the corn, as if waiting for-

A taller hobbit half tripped running out of the field backwards, a straw hat in her grip as came to a halt in front of the boys, counting each head of curly hair. Thorin remembered that shade of honey blonde, the same color Belladonna Took’s hair was, but this lass’ hair was much longer, coming down to below her waist.

“Oh man Farmer Maggot is angry this time! Why’d you have to go and steal his hat, Saradoc?” a chubby hobbit boy asked.

“It was just too temptin’!” one of the boys, identified as Saradoc, replied, grinning like it was his lifetime achievement.

“Oi! Move it, he’s coming!” the lass ordered, pushing the younger hobbits into the next field. “Go to the market and pretend like nothin’ happened.”

“So bossy,” the other boy muttered before they disappeared into the corn, leaving the lass by herself, surrounded by four dwarves on horses, who she just noticed were standing there.

“Bollocks…” she grumbled, watching the sickle belonging to Farmer Maggot leave the shelter of the corn.

“Bilbo Baggins, thought it was you an’ your lot,” the old farmer grumbled, pushing his way out of his fields. Then he noticed the dwarves. “Not this mess again…”

The lass, Bilbo as she had been called, looked up at the dwarves, at first with confusion, then realization, and finally mischief. Thorin felt a very bad feeling pass through him the moment those brown eyes met his blue eyes.

Her stare returned to Farmer Maggot, dropping into a swift bow that would have been indecent if she wasn’t wearing brown trousers, a men’s shirt and unbuttoned green vest. “So sorry about having your hat stolen, Farmer Maggot, sir. These friends of mine don’t know how to behave in a manner acceptable to hobbits.” She straightened up and placed the hat back onto the farmer’s head, a bright smile on her face, exposing a stunning smile that also reminded the dwarves of a particular lady hobbit. “Now, I best be getting’ home to my mum and da. Good day, Farmer Maggot, sir!” And she had disappeared into the cornfield where she had sent the boys into several strange minutes earlier.

Farmer Maggot sighed, taking what seemed like a very long moment to calm whatever emotion had threatened to show up. “Sorry about that lads, I hope you aren’t too ticked and pricked by ‘er shenanigans.”

The four dwarves were lost, not even sure what had really happened in that whirlwind of a moment.

“Oh, don’t worry sir. I think we just haven’t quite caught up with what all that business was,” Bofur replied, offering the farmer a weary smile.

Thorin’s attention was elsewhere, looking to spot wherever the hobbit lass and the three lads had run off to. He had a few things to say to that Bilbo character. Though she didn’t know who he was, it was still improper to place blame on another. The others continued to talk to the farmer, probably asking for directions, when he spotted the four hobbits escaping the field and fleeing down the road, bare feet black with dirt. But the girl spun around, jogging backwards long enough to tip him a lame bow, before running off after the children.

It was then he made a promise to find her and give her a lesson in manners.

 

* * *

 

 

A little after sundown, Bilbo finally arrived home, half skipping up the walk and opening the door, humming a tune to herself. Only to come face to face with both of her parents, standing in the foyer with their arms crossed.

“Farmer Maggot’s field, again?” her father began, uncrossing his arms so he could sigh and pinch the bridge in that way he does when he’s furious. Obviously word of the venture had spread fast through the Shire.

“It was Saradoc’s idea, and he ran off-” she started, but her mother intervened.

“If you have so much trouble keepin’ an eye on your cousins and the Gamgee’s lad, then why not let me do it. Or Mrs. Gamgee,” Belladonna sighed, “I don’t understand why you’re so keen on watching the lads when you don’t plan on marryin’.”

“Paladin and Saradoc are like little brothers to me. And it’s not like I have any siblings of my own to take care of…”

It was no secret to Bungo and Belladonna that Bilbo desired to be a sister. And telling her that there wasn’t a chance that any siblings would be born broke the girl’s heart. So when Saradoc and Paladin were born, she immediately took a shine to each of the lads, being the big sister she was meant to be, but unfortunately couldn’t be.

Both Bungo and Belladonna were hurt by her words, even though she had used them on a few occasions over the years, in situations like this where she acted irresponsibly and had gotten herself into trouble.

“And it’s not like I can have a sibling now anyway. I’ve got nothing here to wait for either, so… I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?” both parents asked at once.

“I’m going to go on an adventure.”

“A-An adventure? Bilbo, be reasonable,” Belladonna said, breaking a long period of silence. Bungo and Bilbo both stared at her, both wondering why she was the first to refute the idea.

“Your mum is right, Bilbo.”

“You raised me on stories of your adventures! You let me roam the Shire and now I’ve grown too much to be kept here. I want an adventure like you had mum! Well… maybe without the dragon. But I want to see the world, go where no hobbit has gone before!”

A heavy knock at the door halted the conversation.

“Go get cleaned up, Bilbo. We’ll discuss this later,” Belladonna said sharply, a tone that came off too strong and seemed to hurt her daughter. She had never taken that tone with Bilbo before.

The daughter avoided eye contact with her parents as she stalked off to her bedroom and private washroom. And Bungo went to the door while his wife pulled herself together.

All she heard was her husband squeak, gasp, and make other nonsensical noises before she finally turned around to see-

-Four dwarves standing in her doorway. Four dwarves, who’s faces she knew all too well, though one was much younger the last time she had seen him in the immediate aftermath of The Battle of Five Armies.

“Oh my-”

“Belladonna Took is that you? You look lovely as ever!” the dwarf she remembered as Bofur said with a grin, the weird hat on his head nearly getting knocked off his head by a large bald dwarf, who tried to smack his head.

“Manners, Bofur. Introductions to the man of the house first.”

“Ah, aye. Bofur, at your service!” Bofur bowed to a very confused Bungo.

“Ori, also at your service.”

“Dwalin, son of Fundin, brother of Balin, at your service,” spoke the large dwarf.

The last dwarf bowed. “Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, heir to the throne of Erebor, at your service.”

Bungo blinked a few times before mimicking the dwarves. “Bungo Baggins, husband of Belladonna-”

A shriek broke the award greeting session in the foyer and then followed by a very angry shout.

“LOTHO SACKVILLE-BAGGINS! YOU DIRTY LITTLE-”

Angry stomps went into the kitchen, and into the foyer emerged a very familiar hobbit lass, carrying a well dented frying pan. Once again, not noticing the dwarves, she slipped outside, in nothing but her house robe mind you, and ran around the yard and all was quiet for several moments.

“Wait for it…” Belladonna mused.

A solid thunk echoed into the house.

“I’m going to have Lobelia’s neck for letting her son get away with this…” Bungo grumbled, politely excusing himself to go investigate.

“What-”

“-was-”

“-that?” all the dwarves, minus Thorin asked.

Belladonna rubbed a hand across her face before daring to answer. “Bungo’s cousin’s lad is a bit of a peeper; likes spying on my daughter. But she usually handles it herself. Then we have words with his parents, but he still hasn’t learned his lesson.”

Bungo came in, well more like pushed a fuming house robe wearing Bella into the foyer.

“I wasn’t finished yet…” the girl groaned.

“At least save a bit of his face to bash in on another day,” Bungo replied, shooing her back towards her room and confiscating the frying pan, which was now beyond any sort of repair.

The two hobbits sighed, making sure Bella’s door had closed before speaking.

“Sorry about that…” they spoke together, bowing slightly to the dwarves.

Dwalin chuckled, “Feisty lass, just like her mother.”

Belladonna grimaced, “Oh you have no idea…”

Bungo muttered something about making tea and disappeared into the kitchen with the frying pan.

As soon as the husband was gone and the front door was latched, the dwarves –with the exception of Thorin- each gave Belladonna a hug.

“You haven’t aged a day, Belladonna!” Bofur grinned, releasing the hobbit lady from a bear hug.

“Oh really? You haven’t seen the grey hairs?”

“Nah, lassie, you look as though we never left ye.”

“Speakin’ of leaving, we all thought you were coming back…” Dwalin said, bringing up the subject that had to be brought up at some point.

Belladonna nodded, her smile fading. “I’d intended on returning, but somewhere between meeting Bungo and Bella bein’ born, I decided to stay. Though…” she paused, glancing back towards where her daughter’s room was, “I had planned on bringing my family there, though Bella doesn’t know that. Guess if she knew, she wouldn’t have got the idea in her head that she’d be going on an adventure on her own.”

She turned back to the dwarves, her smile returning, “So what brings you lot here to the Shire? I doubt its just being on the trading party. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that you lot don’t go anywhere without a reason.”

“It’s partly the trading business, but-” Ori began, but was cut off by Bofur’s snort.

“-King Thror wants his grandson to find a bride,” Dwalin finished.

Thorin was scowling at the three other dwarves, while Belladonna fought to keep her giggles under control.

“Well I don’t know how many other Shire lasses would be silly enough to run off with a group of dwarves, other than myself,” Belladonna said through her fit.

Bungo poked his head out of the kitchen. “And if you say an’thin’ like ‘courting’, ‘marriage’ or any of that business, you’ll be on the nasty end of Bella’s fryin’ pan.”

“Or her fist! Remember she punched what’s-his-face Bolger.”

“Or we could stop talking about my anger issues…”

All six heads turned to look at Bella, now in a casual dress, her wild mane of honey-blonde curls untamed. Her bottom lip was cut open slightly, signs of healing already noticeable. She noticed the dwarves and made a face, obviously recognizing them from earlier, but curtseyed anyway. “Bella Baggins, I prefer being called Bilbo. Pleasure.”

The dwarves, including Thorin, introduced themselves again to the lass.

“Oh. Yeah. About earlier with Farmer Maggot, sorry for throwing you to the dogs like that.”

Belladonna almost groaned the instant Bilbo had left to go to the kitchen. “She got you lot involved with the old farmer?”

“It wasn’t so bad though. We were lost and he gave us directions.”

She sighed again and then shooed them into the dining room.

The dwarves were almost in awe of the family of three, their simple dance around the kitchen, cooking, preparing, moving dishes to various places and getting more food out of the pantry; a dance that had been practiced for many years, first with just Belladonna, then with the addition of Bungo and finally Bilbo.

Dinner was prepared in no time with the tree hobbits working together and working quickly. And on the table lay a feast fit for 10 dwarves, not just four with the addition of two adult hobbits and their almost mature daughter. And much like the meal she shared with the twelve dwarves nearly thirty years ago in a very different dining room, it was filled with a festive air and there was much joy to be shared, and this time, she was part of that joy.

Even the downtrodden and slightly bitter Bilbo was smiling on occasion, her foul mood slipping away, as did the face bashing she gave Lotho. She looked up at one point and locked stares with the dwarf known as Thorin, but quickly went back to her food.

It seemed as though no one had noticed the glare-down between the prince and the heir of Bag End, nor was the mood diminished. In fact, it seemed lighter after the silent confrontation.

When the alcohol was being brought out to the table, Bilbo took it as a silent cue to retire for the evening. She departed the dining room, but not before catching Thorin’s glance for a second time. With a smirk, she turned on her heel and headed off to her room.

“For some reason, I still don’t believe that hitching a ride with a trading party to visit with us and looking for some darrow lass to marry Thorin is the real reason you are traveling again,” Belladonna spoke after she was sure Bilbo was gone, sipping on her drink slowly.

“Do you really want to get involved in another mess with us?” Thorin asked.

“Why not? It’s not just Bilbo who’s got itchin’ feet.”

The four dwarves looked between each other and all smiled at the hobbit couple.

“Just a fair warnin’, there shouldn’t be any dragons involved this time.”


	3. A Creature of Enormous Size

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are hangovers, a healthy dose of sass, some small children, and no small amount of courage.

Waking up in the morning, Thorin had not expected to find that the soft bed he had slept in had done wonders for his cramped up and kinked up, aching back. It was like the pain he had suffered since leaving Erebor was never there.

He slipped off the bed, a small thing built for the hobbits who owned Bag End, taking a moment to stretch and crack every joint and tight spot in his body before moving over to the wash bowl to clean his face.

The water was cool against his face, pulling the last bits of sleep away from him. He caught his reflection in the mirror as he patted his face dry, taking a moment to realize what a good bed could do for a dwarf, especially a dwarf his age. He wasn’t that old, only a few flecks of grey spotted his hair here and there. Technically he was in his prime and that was the main drive for his grandfather to send Thorin away to find a bride. But the other words his grandfather had spoke before they had departed Erebor several months earlier still haunted him, leaving a bitter foreboding in his gut.

And to his surprise, when he entered the hallway, he could smell a heavenly wonderful breakfast being cooked. But it was also very quiet, with the exceptions of heavy snoring coming from other parts of the house. He remembered after Bilbo Baggins had disappeared for the evening, Ori had also retired after the alcohol became too much for the young dwarf, then Thorin himself went to sleep, not caring to be up half the night getting involved with drunken antics when he was already on thin ice with Belldonna Baggins and her strange lass. The man of the house didn’t seem to care too much about the strange people invading his home, or at least didn’t voice it as the girl had with her cold tone.

He moved to the kitchen, almost too surprised to find the youngest Baggins in front of the stove cooking. He chalked his surprise up to the girl performing such a domestic act, when she held no qualms about helping three boys steal from a farmer and then deceiving said farmer and putting the blame on some travelers. But more surprising was that she seemed to be enjoying herself, even humming as she piled food onto plates.

She turned the stove off and began moving the plates to the table, not having noticed the Prince Under the Mountain standing in the doorway. Judging by the arrangement of the food, the young Baggins intended on eating all of the food herself; an gargantuan amount that would put a darrowdam to shame.

“You don’t have to stand there all day, you know.”

The dwarf nearly jumped out of his skin at the quiet voice speaking, but it was a voice that belonged to someone who was very awake and hadn’t paid any mind to him until then. When he realized it was Bilbo who had spoken, his eyes met hers, not failing in missing the slight quirk of her eyebrow and the amusement playing in her eyes.

Unsure of what else to do and to not come off more like an ass to their hosts’ daughter, he sat down across the table from the girl.

Bilbo slid a plate of eggs and bacon, toast and biscuits at him and motioned for him to eat. He mumbled a ‘thank-you’ before beginning to eat.

The girl snorted, like actually snorted, a grin spreading across her face. “Mum always said you were awkward and an ass. Though I’m seein’ more of the awkward bit right now.”

Thorin swallowed the delicious and wonderful food in his mouth. He had never tasted anything so delectable in his life and was almost displeased that she dared to attempt a conversation over such a glorious meal. He was about to speak when she changed the subject.

“Is it really true that you killed Azog the Defiler?”

He nodded, unsure of where her thoughts and questions were leading them. “It is true.”

“Gored him with your sword and cleaved his head?”

He nodded again.

She had set down her fork, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair a little. “So war-hero, excellent taste in food, but incapable of holding a conversation with a person one-on-one…” she leaned forward again, taking a bite of her eggs before speaking again. “Who thought it’d be a grand idea for you to be king?” she snickered.

Thorin didn’t think her joke was funny in the least, if it was a joke. “Bloodline right, first born, and I’m not king, yet.”

She mulled over that statement for a bit before losing the humor and lightheartedness in her expression. “So what insane adventure do you plan on dragging my mum on this time? She may seem like she’s the same hobbit you lot brought on their mad errand all those years ago, but she’s not. If it’s not clear to you, not everyone ages as gracefully as a dwarf or elf.” 

“So you were eavesdropping last night?”

“It’s not eavesdropping if it’s in your home.”

“I have a friend who would agree wholeheartedly with you in that sentiment. Though he tends to do it wherever he goes.”

“Your friend must be clever then.”

“He thinks he is, but all he did was get into trouble before we went to reclaim the Lonely Mountain.”

Bella faked a gasp, going as far as to cover mouth with her hand. “A scoundrel!” she whispered, the apples of her cheeks becoming more prominent, hinting at the grin obscured behind her hand.

Thorin relaxed a little, mimicking the hobbit lass’ table manners slightly and finishing his meal with a bit more civility than what would be typically expected of a dwarf.

“Da almost had a cow when you all showed up yesterday, thinking you were going to take Mum on another adventure or something.”

Thorin was about to speak when Dwalin stalked into the kitchen, taking the seat next to Thorin and dropping his head on the wood of the table with a groan.

“Hobbits out-drinking dwarves…” he grunted from the table top.

“Not all hobbits, just my parents have that bit of information to brag about.”

“You’ve lost your edge, Dwalin,” Thorin said in an attempt to bait the other dwarf.

Only he was met with a grunt of agreement and no protest.

Thorin didn’t notice when Bella had left the table to start on the dishes, only that she had come back with a fresh pot of tea and a clean cup. She poured it and pushed it toward Dwalin and set the remaining pot in the center of the table, immediately going back to her own tea.

“Stuff’s great for curing a hangover. Mum and Da have been using it for years.”

“You’ve taken a shine to our company, Miss Baggins?” Dwalin asked after downing the entire cup of tea in one gulp.

“I tolerate it. I don’t ‘take a shine’ to anything,” she replied coolly.

Thorin and Dwalin were a bit surprised at her bluntness, but Dwalin managed a laugh, despite the aching in his head.

Bella rolled her eyes and slid her chair over a bit to make room for her mother, who had stumbled into the room moments ago.

“Don’t act so childish, Bilbo. It’s unbecoming of a girl nearly out of her tweens.”

Bilbo mumbled a ‘yes mother’ and went back to her tea.

“And yet I remember a time when you weren’t so different, Belladonna,” Dwalin commented, pouring himself more tea.

Several soft knocks interrupted the conversation and the youngest Baggins went to answer it, only to be knocked clean off her feet by two tiny hobbit children.

She groaned loudly and tried to free herself from her clingy cousins, only to give up and flop on her back with a resounding thud of defeat. “I can’t breathe you two munchkins are so heavy!”

“I told them it wasn’t a good idea, Miss Bilbo.”

Bilbo grinned at the third boy, who wasn’t having any part of the nonsense his friends had gotten into. Hamfast Gamgee immediately knew what the older girl was planning and stood out of the way.

The adults back in the kitchen were watching the display with curiosity, not really sure what was going on other than the little ones wanted to play.

Bilbo was on her feet in a second and somehow managed to free herself from her cousins and was now dangling them by their ankles. “It’s a very serious offense to disrespect your elders, Saradoc, Paladin… Maybe I should drop ye head first into the pig’s slop. Or let Fatty Bolger try to take a nibble off your wee legs!”

The boys begged for forgiveness and Bilbo helped them back down onto their feet, wiping their tears away and giving them soft pats on the head. “Might have gone a bit overboard there… Sorry lads.”

“S’okay, Bilbo. But-”

“-We found a huge creature by the lake!”

“Bigger than the rock we use playin’ King o’ da Mountain!”

“It tried to bite Hamfast, but we hit it with a stick!”

“And we ran here!”

Bilbo clamped hands on both of her cousins’ mouths. “Instead of telling me, show me.”

Saradoc and Paladin nodded.

Bilbo freed the boys, shooing them out the door and disappearing after them.

Belladonna sighed a little, “She’s a bit too rough with those boys…”

“Nah, lass, that’s what dwarves call parenting,” Dwalin replied.

It was quiet in the kitchen for a moment, until Belladonna nearly dropped her teacup. “Did they say a huge creature?”

 

* * *

 

Bilbo followed her cousins and the Gamgee boy down to the lake. Like most autumn mornings, the weather was clear and fairly warm, the sky nearly cloudless and pure blue. By the lake, the grass was tall, coming up to Bilbo’s hips and nearly submerging the three young hobbit boys, but the wild curls poking out from the tops of the grass blades made it a bit easier to keep up with their boundless energy.

The boys kept up the hurried pace until they came to a clearing in the grass near the King o’ da Mountain rock. To children, it was the biggest rock in the whole Shire. Those like Bilbo, who dared to venture further from the towns, had come across rocks three or four times the size of the one by the lake. Crags of rocks dropping off into deep trenches filled those woods on the borders of the Shire and only the bravest hobbits had dared to go near the edge and see for themselves just how far it was to the bottom. Bilbo had been the only one to do so since her mother, but when she had come home to tell her parents of her achievement, they scolded her for her recklessness.

Now standing at the big rock by the lake, she was wondering if her little cousins had inherited a bit of that reckless spirit by simply being around her for so long.

“Bilbo! Here! It’s righ’ here!” Paladin called, jumping up and down a few feet from a very large…

“-A snapping turtle?” Bilbo questioned, going to her cousins and neighbor and shooing them away from the enormous shelled creature.

The turtle was much bigger than the rock, about four times the size of one of the boys behind her and with a head as big as her own. The creature’s maw was threatening, even from a safe distance, the pointed upper lip could easily tear through a hobbit’s flesh. Same with the grotesque spiked ridges on it’s shell. The tallest ridges brought the turtle’s massive size to up to Bilbo’s knees.

There creature’s eyes moved, finding the people disturbing it’s early morning nap.

“Boys, when I tell you to run, run. Go back up to the road and stay there. This thing will try to attack. Got it?”

The three sounded off agreements.

Bilbo waited, watching the turtle with an intense stare, waiting for its attention to slip away for even a second to give them a head start on fleeing.

And after several long, stressful minutes, the snapping turtle blinked slowly.

“Go!”

The four hobbits fled, Bilbo letting the boys run ahead, while she jumped on top of the rock, and landing on the opposite side, hearing the thunk of the turtle’s maw colliding with the stone. She ran to catch up with the boys, scooping the slow Hamfast up and running with him, the sounds of the turtle trying to catch up with its prey following behind her. It was a lot faster than she had anticipated and had much longer legs than she would have thought and it pushed her to run faster, picking up Saradoc onto her back and Paladin in her other arm and haphazardly running up to the main road, only to find the giant snapping turtle returning to the lake.

Bilbo collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily and lying on her back, the boys freed from her grasp. “Do. Not. Go. Down. There. Ever. Again,” she breathed, covering her face with her forearm and closing her eyes.

“It was almost as big as you, Bilbo!” Saradoc commented, shaking her arm a little to try and make her move.

“I don’t think we should stay in the middle of the road…” Hamfast mumbled, playing with the hair on his feet.

“It hissed too! Like an angry cat!” Paladin added in, completely ignoring Hamfast.

The two cousins burst into fits of laughter, kindly naming the turtle “The Great Hissing Rock” before Belladonna’s worried voice broke the brief bit of merriment.

“Bella, what happened?” the older hobbit woman asked, staring down at her child with her arms crossed.

“They found a bloody snapping turtle… And it chased us,” Bilbo muttered from her all too comfortable spot in the middle of the road.

“In the lake?”

Bilbo nodded.

Belladonna sighed and made a quick mental note to tell the Thain about it later.

Right now she had a much more pressuring issue, something that had been discussed the night before after the young hobbit went to bed.

Belladonna had sent the three younger boys to see the Thain about the turtle problem and returned to Bag End with her daughter, who was still tuckered out from carrying three children and running as fast as her legs could carry her. They went into the parlor, where Bungo had settled in for post-second breakfast tea with the dwarves, Bofur and Dwalin still nursing their hangovers, while Thorin and Ori were stone-cold sober like Bungo.

“All is well then?” Bungo asked as his family entered the room.

“I should think so. The lads went to go inform the Thain about the, what was it that they called it again, Bilbo?”

“The Great Hissing Rock,” Bella answered, taking a seat in a chair next to Ori.

“Snapping turtle?” Bungo asked.

Bella nodded. “Probably a little bit over my knees in height, at least until the little blighter started chasin’ us up the hill.” The girl tucked a stray curl behind her ear and turned her attention to her mother. “So what’s so important that I needed to be here?” She was being a bit sarcastic, but her parents didn’t pay her any mind.

“You’re going to get your adventure after all. Well, with your father and I accompanying you.”

 

* * *

 

“Moria,” Thorin said quietly from his seat between chairs occupied by Dwalin and Bungo.

“Isn’t that where…?” Bilbo asked, forgetting her exhaustion for a moment to recall one of the stories Belladonna told her of when she was tiny. A story about a brave king, his son and grandsons leading an army of dwarves against an army of goblins and orcs after the dragon Smaug had come to rule over Erebor and it’s mountains of gold. Her mother spoke of the battle as if she had been there herself, but she hadn’t even been born when it had happened. Then she remembered one of her favorite parts of the story, when a young dwarf prince, exiled from his home and grieving from his brother’s death, charged against the horrid Azog the Defiler and cleaved his arm with his sword for his weapon and an oak branch as a shield. And now she was sitting in the same room as the dwarf from the story. Saying that she felt like an complete and utter idiot was being kind.

Dwalin nodded, “The Battle of Azanulbizar, our attempt at reclaiming Moria after we lost Erebor. Our king, Thror, survived, but Thorin’s father, Thrain, vanished.”

“My grandfather asked us to go back to Moria, not to find what fate my father met, but to find a treasure of our people.”

“The best way to explain it is, we’re lookin’ for the Arkenstone’s sister,” Bofur explained.

“Since whoever holds the heart of the mountain is the king, an’ all that,” Dwalin finished.

“Should be a lot safer than when we went to reclaim Erebor. Especially since there’s no dragon to deal with,” Ori added in, almost giving Bilbo a fright since she forgot that he was sitting right next to her.

“No instant incinerations or being gobbled up for a dragon’s supper,” Bofur laughed.

Belladonna groaned, recalling when the very same dwarf went into very elaborate detail about ways she could die facing Smaug, though while she had fainted after hearing all of that, Bilbo didn’t seem too bothered by the prospects of this venture.

“What about orcs or goblins?” Bilbo asked, sitting on the edge of her seat.

“That’s a strong possibility,” Dwalin answered.

A grin bloomed on the girl’s face, the expression and feeling reaching her eyes, giving them a brighter color momentarily. Her cheeks seemed to turn a bit pink with her excitement. But words seemed to escape the not-quite-of-age hobbit lass. The only other reaction was the way she seemed to bounce a little in her chair like an eager child.

But that eagerness disappeared suddenly at the sound of a wheezing cough from her father. The coughing quickly turned to wheezing and gasping for air, and Bilbo caught her father as he slipped from his chair.

“Bungo!”

“Da!”

 

* * *

 

 

The four dwarves were utterly useless in helping the Baggins family. They waited for nearly an hour before Bilbo appeared from her parent’s bedroom, sweat beading on her forehead.

“How’s your da, lass?” Bofur asked, pulling Thorin and Dwalin out of their private conversation and Ori out of his writing.

“Mum says it was a heart attack. It’s something fairly common in older hobbits… He’ll be alright in a few days,” she replied, biting her lip after she finished speaking.

Then she offered a small smile before heading into the kitchen.

Such a familiar little place gave her more comfort than she could comprehend. She could be blindfolded and still navigate her family’s kitchen as if she had her sight to guide her. Familiarity and love put into building this smial, into everything in the hobbit hole on a tall hill with a green door, into building her family and everything she held dear. Suddenly this happy hole in the ground was feeling very empty, despite the company of her mother’s old friends and her parents in their room. Everything was much too big to her now.

She was small, even for a hobbit of her age, and she felt her world growing.

She peered down the hallway to where the dwarves sat talking in quiet Khuzdul, engrossed and failing to notice her curiosity.

These were some of the dwarves who took her mum away on a mad adventure in her youth. But her mother was getting old, as was her father, but the four strangers in the parlor hadn’t aged much from her mum’s descriptions and the few drawings kept from the quest; the few that had survived the journey home.

They had come to seek help and spirited adventures with their old friend, but Bilbo knew the second her father had fallen that her mother would no longer go with her friends.

And if her parents couldn’t go, well then she’ll just have to have an adventure to share with them when she returned.

Leaving the kettle on the stove, not having bothered making tea like she had gone to do, she marched down the hall to the dwarves and cleared her throat. Four pairs of eyes fell on her and she spoke very clearly:

“I will go with you to Moria, without my parents.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad about what I did to Bungo, but I really don't give a flying hoot. And the type of turtle that the boys found is called an alligator snapping turtle. They are huge and vicious.
> 
> Just a reminder that Bilbo isn't an adult, just a few years shy of being one. So she's still a bit childish and immature. But she's knows when to act like a grown-up.
> 
> As for what's going to happen in the next chapter? The adventure begins!
> 
> If you want the dirty details and good stuff on the fic or any of my other nonsense, check out my blog at possiblyhobbits.tumblr.com


	4. The New Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure begins! Thorin's company is reunited! Bilbo forgets how to adult.

Belladonna couldn’t have been happier the day she discovered that she was with child. The only day that topped it was the day her child was born, a tiny thing with the curliest and unruliest hair she had ever seen with chocolate brown eyes that reminded her so much of her husband. Even the greatest of the victories on her journey with her dwarf friends couldn’t compare to her daughter’s birth. 

The tiny child became wild as soon as she could crawl and many afternoons and mornings were spent chasing the girl around the smial and the yard. That soon changed into her and Bungo chasing her about the Shire and Hobbiton, reveling in the joy and wonder of being a family. They would take picnics far from any hobbit holes, explore the forests and hilly countryside, and spend evenings stargazing. Bilbo would often fall asleep in her father’s arms, but be holding her mother’s hand.

Sometimes she’d remember the year a Took cousin brought a gift for wee Bilbo, a violin. At first she hated the instrument, nearly breaking it on several occasions, but one afternoon after Belladonna and Bungo returned from the market, they found an interesting sight. Tiny Bella running around and spinning about with the violin, playing a simple tune for her dancing and mayhem. Bilbo had kept up with learning to play the violin, but never flaunted the talent to anyone outside of Bag End, as many of the Baggins relatives thought the instrument was just another excuse to make her stand out and be unfit for suitors.

So when Belladonna went to her daughter’s room after dinner had been cleaned up and the dishes washed, she was surprised to see Bilbo carefully packing the instrument into her pack with some clothes her father handed-down to her.

“Is it really that time?” Belladonna asked, walking over to Bilbo to help fold the girl’s clothes in a way to make them more compact.

“Time for what?”

“To see my daughter run out the door on some mad venture like I did…”

“Well… I figured since you have to stay and take care of Da, and the dwarves came lookin’ for you to help, well then they can have the second best option.”

“You’re the second best option? I would say you’re more useful to them than me. If I was younger, then what you said would be more true.”

Bilbo snorted and stuffed a second pair of trousers into the pack. “You never did give me sword fighting lessons like you said you would.”

“How on earth do you remember somethin’ I told you when you were still in nappies?”

The girl shrugged and went to her closet to find something.

“I’ll give you Sting so you don’t go runnin’ off with my frying pans. Don’t think those would fare well against orcs or trolls…”

“Well since you and Da consider Lobelia Sackville-Baggins a troll, my frying pan must do some good.”

Belladonna chuckled, tucking the last bit of clothing into the pack. “Ask Dwalin to show you how to use a sword. You’ll need it and he’s a much better warrior than myself.”

“So you and Da aren’t totally livid at me?”

The older hobbit shook her head and offered her daughter a smile. “Of course not. It was always the plan for us to go somewhere as a family, but I think going on your own with people I would have given my life for and they would do the same in return is probably better than going with your father and I.”

“Because you still enjoy a good amount of coddling.”

“Exactly.”

 

* * *

 

  

Morning came bright and early for the busy hobbit smial, sunlight filtering through all the windows with the easterly view. And before the sun had fully risen, the four dwarves bayed their farewells to Belladonna –and through her, to her husband-, while Bilbo gave her mother a hug before joining the group.

“We’ll be meeting with the rest of our company in Bree sometime tomorrow,” Thorin explained as they walked through the Shire, drawing a considerable amount of attention despite the very early hour, when most hobbits would be eating their first breakfast.

Thorin was secretly pleased that they were finally on there way, but a tiny voice in the back of his mind kept bringing unwanted thoughts into his mind. Their unexpected guest was now an unknown factor in their journey. He wasn’t sure what the hobbit lass had to offer the group, especially since she was replacing her mother on this journey.

Belladonna Took had been a strange girl when the Company came to her home in the Shire three decades earlier, on the request of a more unusual wizard. At first she had been irate and annoying, a woman dragged away from homely comforts and thrust out into the real world. But that faded quickly, replaced by a capable, kind, clever, and brave friend and warrior of all the members of the Company, even old Thror, who had thought he had seen the very last of the world’s good natured folk. They all knew, without saying, that the quest would have failed if it hadn’t been for Belladonna Took; that Thorin himself, his sister Dis and his brother Frerin would have died protecting their grandfather if the hobbit hadn’t called out to them in the battle, just in time for Thorin to block Azog the Defiler’s metal claw from goring into Frerin.

In retrospect, Thorin wished he could have done more to thank her, especially after Belladonna had given the Company much more than they could ever repay her for. She didn’t know until he, Ori, Bofur and Dwalin had showed up in her house how good the times were for Erebor and her peoples. How the Men of Dale and the Elves of the Greenwood she had bargained with, despite Thror’s near attempt at killing her for hiding the Arkenstone and giving it to the elves and Men, had become such close allies. An opportunity at friendship was missed and seemingly come back for a second chance, in the form of Belladonna’s only child.

Bilbo seemed perfectly content with riding a pony, unlike her mother during the first few days on the road. Her wild mane of curls had been tamed into a single thick braid that hung down her back, also unlike her mother. Belladonna had cut her hair very short, by hobbit standards, and was often mistaken as a boy for a good portion of their journey.

His interest in the girl stemmed primarily from wanting to repay Belladonna in some way for all that she had done for the line of Durin. Just because his grandfather wanted him to marry did not mean he would marry just anyone, you know.

He really didn’t want to think about marrying right now. Or ever, for that matter.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they reached Bree, Bilbo’s ears had nearly fallen off from listening to Ori and Bofur chatter about the history of Moria and all the legends of the once grand kingdom, their families and just general conversation bits. She was thankful she didn’t have to resort to hobbit small-talk to make herself feel less awkward amongst the group.

She found out -well more or less confirmed her mother’s stories- that Bofur had a brother and a cousin, both of whom had been on the quest to Erebor, named Bombur and Bifur. And Ori had two older brothers, Nori and Dori. Apparently all of the members of her mother’s Company would be meeting them in Bree, with the exception of King Thror and Thorin’s brother and sister. They were to be replaced with Thorin’s sister-sons, Fili and Kili. Ori hadn’t even been on the quest to Erebor and apparently his brothers had put up quite the fuss when he said he was going on the journey to Moria.

The foursome left their ponies at a stable in Bree, making their way through the darkened streets of the town to an inn with a very familiar name; the Prancing Pony. Her mother had mentioned the night they had stayed there on their way to Erebor. A smile fell on Bilbo’s lips. She was reliving a part of her mother’s adventure, walking where she had walked so many years ago. And in being so caught up in her memories, she hadn’t noticed that they were now in the inn and being swarmed by a group of slightly smelly males.

“Quiet, you lot!” Dwalin shouted, silencing the entire inn. Even the Men sitting throughout the bar area had fallen silent and were now staring at the group by the door.

“Let’s take this conversation upstairs, brother…” an older dwarf with shockingly white hair spoke calmly, eyeing the unnecessary audience of Men.

There was a mutual muttering of agreement before the group moved upstairs, Bilbo following as best as she could. The stairs being a bit tricky since they were obviously made for non-hobbit creatures. After several strenuous moments, she had gotten up to the second floor and had found the room the dwarves were filing into, only to have the last dwarf -a very large and heavy-set male with thick red hair- shut the door in her face. She stumbled back, swearing under her breath.

She took a step back from the door and found the handle. But after a few failed jumps to try and reach it, she gave up and went to go sit on the floor next to the door.

“Well this is just great…” she grumbled scratching her head while she fumed. “Curse those gifted with height…”

“There ye are, lass!” Bofur’s voice exclaimed happily, making Bilbo jump nearly out of her skin. “Th’ others didn’t know we had ye with us. Come, come!” he explained, half dragging the hobbit off the floor and into the very crowded space, the door shutting loudly behind her.

Bilbo swallowed hard, realizing so many big and slightly terrifying looking dwarves were now staring at her like she was an orc with an elf’s head on its shoulders.

“As we were sayin’… We weren’t expectin’ to meet all of ye until tomorrow, but the lads had us runnin’ down the mountains so we could be here sooner,” the old dwarf spoke, clearing his throat a bit as if he was choking on the sudden awkwardness of Bilbo’s presence.

“In any case, we’re all here!” a very chipper and surprisingly scruffy-chinned dwarf spoke. He looked very much like Thorin, but with dark brown eyes and a better demeanor.

“With an addition,” the blond next to him spoke. The regal looking braiding of his mustache and hair caught Bilbo’s attention. That is until she figured out that the blonde dwarf was talking about her and had turned everyone’s attention back to her.

“Go on, lass,” Bofur elbowed her in the ribs a bit too roughly for her tiny stature.

She took a breath and straightened up. “My name is Bella Baggins, but my friends call me Bilbo; if I had any friends, that is… Ah- At your service.” She bit the inside of her lip, silently punishing herself for being intimidated so easily by these dwarves, whom were friends of her mother’s. She was an innocent child compared to them. Heck, even the blond dwarf and the scruffy-looking brunette mini-Thorin were probably more deadly and useful than she would ever be. She was rethinking her decision to join the Company in her mother’s steed when laughter broke into her bitter thoughts.

A good portion of the Company was chuckling lightly, while the others seemed to have softened their grumpy expressions as they watched her.

“Belladonna’s lass? Definitely seein’ the resemblance now,” one of the dwarves commented. Some of the others agreed and went around the room introducing themselves.

There was Balin –the old dwarf-, his brother Dwalin, Thorin, Fili –the blond with the eye-catching mustache- and his younger brother Kili –the scruffy one-, Gloin and Oin, Nori, Ori and Dori, Bofur’s cousin Bifur and the dwarf who had shut the door in her face, Bombur –who was also Bofur’s brother. After discovering that he had shut the door in her face, Bombur apologized and offered her first dibs on food for a week, an offer, which, she felt a very hobbitish desire to accept –because, well, food-, but politely declined.

She did not want to be given special privileges or anything simply because she was her mother’s daughter. If she was going to see this quest through, she did not want to do it in her mother’s shadow. She was going to prove her worth on this venture.

 

* * *

 

 

Thorin had been watching the hobbit since she came into the room, after Bombur had accidentally shut her out. He thought it was interesting how she had gone from renegade hobbit lass of the Shire, to hobbit lass feeling intimidated by the large group of dwarves around her. But he also noticed how her expressions seemed a bit larger than her small face would allow for. To a dwarf, it would have been considered dramatics, but he had seen some of the big gapes and attitude from Belladonna before, so it was either a Belladonna trait passed to Bilbo, or just a hobbit thing. He was thinking the latter.

He pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the discussion in front of him. He wasn’t interested in Bella like-that, especially after knowing her all of two days. And being a member of their old Company’s daughter. And didn’t Belladonna say Bilbo wasn’t even considered an adult? And that she had no desire to marry?

Wait.

What was he even thinking about? 

He was definitely not interested in Bella “Bilbo” Baggins.

He was simply seeking out an opportunity to forge a new friendship with someone who was a bit calmer than a dwarf.

Hobbits were very different from dwarves and befriending one was certainly a good opportunity for some cultural education, a dash of diplomacy, and good conversation. Mahal, now he was sounding socially deprived.

He shut those thoughts in the back of his mind and threw away the key, finally focusing in on the conversation led by Balin, who knew the most of the ancient dwarven land of Moria.

“So let’s try an’ get ev’yone up ta speed,” Balin spoke, leaving Thorin under the impression that the older dwarf was waiting for the prince to escape his weird collection of thoughts about-

No. He was not starting that again.

“Now Moria was the kingdom foun’ed by Durin th’ Deathless and his kin. While Ori an’ I were diggin’ through th’ library, we found a text about one of th’ Deathless’ descendants findin’ a stone very similar ta th’ Arkenstone. An’ that drew in Durin’s Bane.”

“Gandalf the Grey calls it a Balrog,” Thorin added in. Where was that wizard anyway?

“Moria was wiped clean by th’ creature. And we won’t be th’ first group of dwarves goin’ in ta reclaim it. We’ll cast th’ sister stone of the Arkenstone back into th’ depths of th’ mountain, just as we did when Erebor was reclaimed.”

“So we needed a burglar,” Dori muttered.

All eyes were back on Bilbo.

“And you went to go find my mum, but got me instead,” she mumbled, eyes cast down at her hairy feet.

“Yer mum had to take care of yer da, lass. You’ll be fine,” Bofur reassured the hobbit, giving her a clap on the back that nearly knocked her off her feet. But she smiled that cheeky smile Thorin had seen back in the Shire and said something Thorin couldn’t hear over the other conversations in the room. Whatever it was had Bofur laughing and Bilbo looked victorious.

The group dispersed after a few more minutes of conversation.

It was tempting to go over and speak to the hobbit, but she was quickly swept up in the madness that was Fili and Kili. He wasn’t annoyed with them for seeking her out. She was around their age as far as maturity was concerned, so it was only natural to talk to people with similar characteristics or age. He was, however, a little jealous of his nephews’ grace in striking up conversation with just about anyone. Mahal, those two could even talk a Mirkwood Elf into laying down their arms!

But there was something more occupying the Prince’s mind, other than his lack of social grace. The matter of the wizard who was to have met them in Bree, but hadn’t shown his face yet. He just hoped Gandalf would show up before they had to deal with the Balrog. Or whatever else Moria’s vast caverns and depths hid from the world for so long.


	5. Durin's Bane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company arrives at Moria and they run into a few... problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fair warning, this chapter skips around a lot. Like it goes from Moria, to portions of the journey and switches between Thorin and Bilbo. And there's some potentially troublesome topics like dying and violence and gore.
> 
> And yeah, I kind of skipped the whole journey there. But you'll see some of the highlights of the trip in the next few chapters (because I'm a sucker for exposition). Woohoo!
> 
> Enjoy, my friends!

 

_Bilbo threw herself against a stone pillar, ducking down and covering her head as fire ripped the stone chamber apart, lighting old moss. She forced her eyes to open, finding the room around her glowing eerily with flames and the smell of death. Not a fresh death, thankfully, but the very smell of ancient bones being turned to ash filling up her lungs. She wanted to gag, but kept swallowing the bile building in her throat back and took shaky breaths. This… this Durin’s Bane, the Balrog, she certainly thought it was worse than Smaug._

* * *

  

On the third day after the group began their journey to Moria, Thorin happened upon Bilbo, who was strangely alone. She had found a rock to sit on so she could have a clear view of the night sky, unobstructed by the fire glow coming from the camp, which was a short walk away. He had come out this way to have some quiet time to think without his nephews and kinsman making a crack at his bachelor status and being married to his job.

She had heard his heavy footsteps despite his best efforts to sneak away and smirked at him. “You know, if you’re trying to sneak about it really helps if you’re actually quiet about it,” she slid off the rock, tripping up slightly when her feet touched the ground. She tried to play it off as nothing, but Thorin raised an eyebrow at her. “You didn’t see that…” she said, giving him a cold stare. 

“I certainly hope your burglaring skills are better than your walking skills.” 

It never crossed his mind if hobbits could be threatening, but the way Bilbo seemed to lose the humor underlining her expression and shifted her posture to look bigger than she actually was, made him think that there was a very good possibility that she could be intimidating if she wanted. He hadn’t figured out until then that insulting a hobbit’s ability to walk was insulting their feet, the equivalent of insulting a dwarf's beard, and it was something that deeply offended her and he was going to regret.

Instead, Bilbo sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. He caught her muttering about “cultural differences” and “not understanding hobbits”.

He probably should have paid a bit more attention when they were in the Shire.

“Is there something you wanted, or are you going to stand there looking like you’re having a midlife crisis all night?”

He blinked and returned his attention to her. “I was just escaping the noise. I never meant to disturb you, Miss Baggins.”

Bilbo shrugged and walked by him to rejoin the camp, leaving him to feel like an idiot. A big, culturally insensitive idiot.

It didn’t help that Bilbo Baggins was the most difficult person to read. Which was saying something since dwarves weren’t the most expressive bunch. Her smiles with double meanings, her smirks and grimaces, the way her eyes widened like a dwarflings would whenever food was present, the way she always seemed to know what was on someone else’s mind, and especially the way she would be insulted by something he said, but always cover it up as if it never happened. She was as warm as the smelting rooms of Erebor, but it could quickly turn into coldness that could put winter to shame. And after that insult about her feet, that coldness was a constant whenever they were in a few feet of each other.

She was a constant in the area of conundrums.

And damn him for wanting to figure her out and make things right.

 

* * *

 

“Where is our burglar?” Nori shouted, hurrying across the crumbling bridge. The sounds of furious goblins that had followed them echoed across the chasm, now impossible to cross with the destroyed bridge falling into the blackness below.

“What do ye mean ‘where’s our burglar’, she’s right-” Dwalin stopped himself short, counting all the heads to find the one belonging to Bilbo Baggins, but she wasn’t there.

“She crossed behind Fili and I!” Kili recalled. The group had spread out to search for the hobbit. 

“I followed ‘er and she made it across safe an’ sound,” Gloin spoke, taking shelter behind a pillar as arrows began raining down on the dwarves from the other side of the chasm.

Thorin’s heart had caught in his throat. He had been watching Bilbo the entire time she had been crossing the bridge. And the second he looked away she had vanished. Arrows stuck in the walls and pillars around the group, but he was looking around for where the hobbit could have slipped away.

There!

There was a hole near the wall in front of him, a hole just big enough for a hobbit to fall into when the weak surface broke. A scrap of fabric matching the trousers she had been wearing was caught on a particularly sharp rock. It was stained with blood; her blood.

He wasn’t sure what he was more fearful of: Belladonna finding out his negligence had allowed her daughter to be lost, the Balrog still haunting the lowest levels of Moria, or Miss Baggins herself when she would somehow find her way back to the Company. Put in a bad mood, Bilbo was terrifying for such a small creature. And that was probably one of the smaller reasons why Thorin took such a liking to her, even if she didn’t realize that he did.

“She fell through the floor,” he finally spoke.

The arrows and screeching of the goblins had finally stopped, leaving the thirteen dwarves alone in eerie silence.

Bifur and Bofur went to the edge of the hole when it was certain that they weren’t going to be attacked and poked around the edges, jumping back in case the hole would expand. But it didn’t.

“That’s a mighty deep pit… I’m not sure how far it even goes…” Bofur sighed.

“We’ll just hav’ta find another way to Miss Baggins,” Ori replied. He was still clutching his little slingshot with a death grip, as if he was still fighting for his life, even if their enemies had taken a brief absence from the hunt.

Thorin swore that the moment Bilbo was safely back with the Company, he would apologize for every insensitive, stupid and cruel thing he ever said to her. The mere imagining of the hobbit being hunted by the Balrog was enough to convince him to be a better dwarf and earn her respect.

When had he started craving her respect? To be on the receiving end of those cheeky grins? To give her everything and anything she could ask for? When did he fall in love with Bella ‘Bilbo’ Baggins? He didn’t know.

Was it the night she had taken the watch alone and she sat and played her violin absently, such lovely music pouring from her very soul and he had stayed awake to watch her. Or had it been the night she had walked up on him, by accident, while he was washing himself in a river and her cheeks turning such a brilliant shade of red at realizing that he was in the nude. Or had it been the easy way that she chewed her lip when she was lost in thought. Or had it been the night after they had fought off a particularly nasty pack of orcs and she had tended to his injuries -just to help ease Oin's burden, she had said-, only to chase her off after so Oin could have her few scratches mended. The two of them had shared a watch-shift that night. They had even spoken about things they probably shouldn’t have, family, favorite types of pipeweed, their nearly equal wild and curious youths, but Thorin didn’t care. He wanted to know her and wanted her to know him.

Even between those few small moments, the stolen glances and idiotic thoughts about attempting to court the hobbit lass, he had managed to do more damage to their strained companionship than good. He had said on one occasion that she should have never left the Shire and that she was a liability. But that had been after they had been attacked for the first time, months before they had reached the gates of Moria. He knew then that he had hurt her much more than he had intended or even desired, but his temper was… dangerous. It was either words or violence and he was thankful he had used words on the burglar instead of the alternative. If he had struck her, they would not have made it into Moria to begin with because she would have gone home or a few days south to Rivendell.

At least he spared himself a fraction of a chance to make things right between them. Though it had taken all of those missteps and rude comments to make him realize that she was dear to him. He could barely admit to himself that he cared about her --in that way.

But she had made it abundantly clear on several occasions in the last few months that she was never going to marry or even fool around, despite a few offers from several mangy-looking hobbits in Bree. He wouldn’t disrespect her wishes and he would make her the happiest woman in all of Middle Earth, even if she wouldn’t be his queen.

He didn’t even realize how forgone he was until the Company had talked Bilbo into telling tales of some of her worst suitors several nights before they entered Khazad-dûm, including the one who was a very good friend with a frying pan. And realizing it made him dread the probability that they would run into Durin’s Bane before Gandalf could slay the creature.

And now that fear was real and roaring below his feet, threatening the life of the hobbit, who unintentionally stole his heart.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo groaned, clutching the side of her head and feeling the slick wetness of her blood dripping from the open wound above her temple. The palm of her left hand stung painfully, protesting the dirty floor it was resting on and the filth that had seeped into the cut. Worse yet was her right leg. She could feel the blood pooled around the limb, the muscle being chilled by the cold air around her, and remembered when the floor caved in beneath her the sharp rock that had ripped through her leg and hand as she fell into the darkness, a sensation so quick and painful she couldn’t scream.

She wondered how long she had been lying in the darkness, if the Company had noticed that she had fallen or even disappeared, if she was in danger.

She tried to move her arms, but whined as pain shot through her body and shook her to her very foundations. So after getting a grip on herself again, she went to open her eyes instead, only to find herself in a very large hall filled with mile-high pillars with patches of glowing moss giving a faint light to the room. The pillars were everywhere, going on for who knows how long, except for a pathway through what she guessed was the middle of the chamber. Maybe she would have appreciated the scenery a bit more if she wasn’t probably dying of internal injuries at the moment.

Taking a deep breath and bracing herself against the cold stone floor, now with puddles of her blood, she heaved herself to an upright position, leaning against the nearest pillar. It didn’t do much for getting her out of her blood, but it was better than lying face-first in it.

Her stomach dropped into the lowest pits of her body, then threatened to bring her last meal up when she looked at her leg. It was very, very broken, the white of tibia bone sticking out through the flesh of her shin. Her skin was red with her still oozing blood and caked with thick black dust.

She closed her eyes, taking deep, slow breaths until the nausea passed. When she finally opened her eyes, she took a few more moments to breathe. Her hand went to her waist, finding Sting still on her hip in its sheath. It gave her a little comfort, in spite of her current situation.

“Okay Bilbo… What are you gonna do to get yourself out of this mess?” she sighed to herself, leaning her head back against the cool pillar, gazing up at the hole she tumbled through.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her mind pull itself together.

A sound echoed from above, but Bilbo ignored it. It was probably just a rock that had slipped loose in her fall.

But then something large and covered in metal crashed at her feet. And she screamed, her voice echoing around the empty chamber. She clamped a hand over her mouth and tried to force her tears to stay in her eyes, her chest heaving up and down with her panicked breathing.

Maybe there were no goblins on this level of Moria… Maybe her scream was loud enough the Company could hear her and would find their way down to her.

A massive roar exploded in the chamber, shaking dust and loose stones from the pillars and ceiling, nearly deafening the tiny hobbit.

Footsteps like earthquakes shook the stone around her like gelatin her mother made for dessert on occasion, but the pit of dread settling in her stomach told her to move. Move and move quickly.

She forced herself to her feet and she hobbled deeper into the sea of pillars, half dragging her bloody and injured leg in a hasty run. And out of the corner of her eye, she saw it.

The Balrog.

 

* * *

 

The Company had found an old storeroom a level down from where they had lost Bilbo. The hole had emptied into a well that disappeared further down into the caverns. A splatter of the hobbit’s blood had been found on one edge of the well, putting an unpleasant feeling in all of their stomachs.

But it was the skeleton in the room that drew their attention. A dwarf skeleton adorned in corroded armor from battles fought long ago. It wasn’t ancient, like the other remains they had found during their descent, but only a few decades old.

Gloin went to the skeleton and picked up the amulet that hung around the bones of the dwarf’s neck. There was a small tug and the bones slipped into the darkness of the well, leaving only the amulet in Gloin’s grip.

The others stared at Gloin in a horrified silence, listening as the remains and the armor that trapped them crashed at the bottom of the well. A blood-chilling scream echoed up, a scream that they already knew whom it had come from; their hobbit.

Thorin and Dwalin had barely begun to move when another noise rose from the blackness of the well. A great enormous roar, louder than the shrieks and snarls of Smaug.

Light glowed up from the bottom of the well, a great wall of fire surged, flames pushing up the miles of stone into the storeroom, sending all the dwarves reeling back.

“Bilbo… is down there…” Kili mumbled, eyes wide as he watched the flames disappear back into the well.

“Alone with Durin’s Bane…” Balin spoke, pulling himself away from the wall.

“Gloin! You’ve doomed Miss Baggins!” Fili glared at the red-haired dwarf, who was internally cursing himself for his foolish actions.

“Didn’t Gandalf say that th’ Balrog was in the deep’st chamber of Moria, ‘efore he went runnin’ off te kill it?” Bofur asked no one in particular.

“Then we’ll go down an’ get her,” Ori added in.

The Company looked to Thorin, but he was focused on the amulet in Gloin’s hand.

“Let me see that…” he said quietly.

Gloin handed the trinket off to the prince and backed away from the well, just to be on the safe side.

Thorin turned the necklace over in his palm, taking some of the grim and dust off the fine steel. A pattern began emerging the longer he turned it about, until he finally stopped, staring at a very, very familiar shape carved into the metal; the symbol of the line of Durin. The necklace had belonged to his father, who had disappeared after they had failed in retaking Moria. They had assumed the White Orc killed him. But putting the pieces together, Gloin had accidentally sent his father’s bones crashing down on their missing hobbit, leaving her alone with a very awake Balrog.

He decided to keep that bit of information about his father to himself for the time being, turning his attention back to finding the missing burglar; his missing hobbit.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo threw herself against a stone pillar, ducking down and covering her head as fire ripped the stone chamber apart, lighting old moss. She forced her eyes to open, finding the room around her glowing eerily with flames and the smell of death. Not a fresh death, thankfully, but the very smell of ancient bones being turned to ash filling up her lungs. She wanted to gag, but kept swallowing the bile building in her throat back and took shaky breaths. This… this Durin’s Bane…

This creature… was far more evil than Smaug.

Fire whipped around her tiny body, the heat stinging her skin and singeing her clothes. She had lost feeling in her body where the injuries from her fall were at simply from her adrenaline, but she was quickly running out of steam. She couldn’t keep hiding from the creature and she couldn’t keep running with all the blood she was losing in her leg and the injury to her head.

Her sight was going in and out of focus now, but the moment the fire had died down around her, she ran and dived between pillars until she heard the Balrog exert itself and swing it’s flaming blade at the pillars near her, bringing heavy rock down around her. She ducked and covered herself, a futile attempt at protecting herself from the debris. The force of the rock hitting the ground made her airborne for a brief moment before she came back down to the stone, pain shooting from her rear throughout her body.

She couldn’t keep this up.

If only she hadn’t screamed, she could have had time to find her way out of the chamber, to make it to another level so the Company could find her.

But she had screamed and now she was going to die.

Strangely, only one regret had come to mind when recollecting her life as the rocks piled around her, the Balrog’s cry booming through the chamber and hurting her already half-deaf ears. That one regret was leaving her parents.

She would die here in Moria at the hands of the Balrog, of Durin’s Bane, and her mother and father would grieve until the day they died over her death.

The tears falling from her eyes felt cold in contrast to the fiery air around her, but she couldn’t will them to stop. She didn’t want to die with tears on her cheeks.

In the past when she thought about how she would die, it would be from old age after many years of wandering Middle Earth, no ties or commitments, just her desire to learn and curiosity driving her steps until she met her end.

Either she would be crushed by the rocks and burned, or burned and crushed by rocks. Neither option was how she wanted to die, but she could no longer form coherent thoughts. Her body shaking with silent abysmal sobs, a prayer for it to be over soon.

She was not brave like her mother. She was not kind like her father.

She held herself against the pillar, hands protecting her neck and head, her bad leg jutting out in front of her while her good was tucked against her chest, her eyes were glued shut. Her mind brought up vivid memories of her parents, of all the lovely times she had as a child, the dances with male hobbit tweens her father refused on her behalf, the stories her mother told her of her adventures and her friends.

Her mind brought up the Company, their smiling faces –or just less serious faces- filling her with comfort as remembering her parents had. Most of them had been her mother’s friends, but were her friends now too, even if a certain prince would profusely deny that there was any sort of friendship between them. It was like her new friends were with her, keeping her hidden from the Balrog just a little longer so she could have these happy memories in her thoughts. And she couldn’t help remembering those times Thorin had smiled at her. It was gratifying to make such a stubborn old sod smile a smile that even reached his eyes.

Maybe they could have been better friends.

The Balrog roared again, moving closer to where she was curled up in a pile of rocks and a pool of her own blood. She could hear the snap of its whip as it lurched back and ripped forward, the sheer sound causing bits of the ceiling to come crumbling down like a heavy rain. Bilbo’s ears rang, unable to hear anything anymore, her eyes were still screwed shut as she felt the rocks coming down around her.

 

* * *

  

Something warm and soft held her, keeping her close and safe.

 

 _So this is death…_ she thought grimly, snuggling closer to the warmth, only to have pain stabbing deep into her innards. She whined weakly, wanting to hold the afflicted part of her body and keep herself from feeling the pain again.

 

She couldn’t bring herself to care or open her eyes. Wherever she had ended up, after being crushed or burned by the Balrog’s wrath, didn’t matter to her. She felt safe and warm, not fearful and alone.

 

“You’re alright,” a voice spoke calmly, stroking back her hair.

 

Everything was foggy, especially her memory. What was her name again? Bilbo… That was her name. For some reason, before the voice had spoken, she had completely forgot her own name. Bella Baggins, better known as Bilbo Baggins, heir of Bag End, daughter of Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Took. Why had she forgotten?

 

The Balrog… What had happened to it? Why was she even facing the Balrog in the first place? Hobbits most certainly did not go on adventures, let alone battled terrifying monsters.

  

How could she forget her friends? Why was she forgetting?

 

Tears fell down her cheeks. She was scared because she kept losing her memories. She couldn’t forget them or her parents. Those silly dwarves, even the serious ones could sometimes crack a smile or laugh with the rest of the group. There was Nori, Dori and Ori, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, Gloin and Oin, Balin and Dwalin, Fili, Kili and Thorin.

 

He was the biggest sod of the whole lot.

 

* * *

 

“There she is,” Balin said happily, pausing the march up to the sealed gates so the Company could gaze at the enormity of Moria, the ancient city of Durin the Deathless. 

“You could fit the Shire in there and then some!” Bilbo said in awe, her chocolate eyes entranced by the mountain. She had never seen anything like it before and she had to admit that she was impressed by the ability of dwarves to carve out a home in a mountain.

“I’ve ‘erd it’s mines are deeper than the ones in Erebor!” Bofur remarked, a grin planted on his face. Bilbo suspected he could find all sorts of materials to make toys out of in the depths of Moria.

The Company continued up to the gates, now less than a day’s journey away. Bilbo stayed behind, suddenly feeling very small in front of the grand mountain, which she had a sneaking suspicion that it was bigger than the mass of the rock would reveal. She hadn’t heard the steps next to her until a large presence had stopped by her side.

“If you think Moria is grand, you should visit Erebor,” Thorin said quietly, walking away before Bilbo had a chance to reply, mostly because his words stunned her.

She snorted a little and hurried up the rocks to catch up to him, settling in a steady pace next to him. “Well maybe I’ll visit Erebor. But only to annoy you, since I think I’m pretty good at it,” she retorted, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Thorin merely raised an eyebrow at her before going back to focusing on climbing. And she celebrated a silent victory at taking the prince’s words away from him and picked up her pace to walk with Bofur instead. At least his company was more enjoyable than the prince’s. She did like messing with Thorin since he never seemed to expect anyone to treat him as anything but royalty, making his reactions that much more amusing.

“Afta’noon, Miss Baggins,” Bofur greeted Bilbo, locking arms with her –as became a habit for the two friends- and flashing her a grin.

If Bilbo would have turned around to see the prince, she would have seen the livid look on his mien and figured out his jealousy. But she didn’t. Instead she turned to grin at Bofur.

“It feels like we haven’t chatted at all today!” Bilbo said with a dramatic sigh.

“Aye, but we wouldn’t want th’ Company gettin’ jealous of us. I wouldn’t be surprised if ye told me there were hobbit skirmishes for ya attentions.”

Bilbo snorted, allowing Bofur to help her over a particularly dangerous spot in the path. “There were plenty of those. Though my interventions may have lessened the amount of participants.”

Bilbo was grateful for Bofur’s friendship. Her mother had always spoken of his kind heart and bizarre hat, but none of those stories had lived up to Bofur himself. They weren’t often seen talking or sharing pipes.

Fili and Kili had become friends with Bilbo as well, but kept their distance if Thorin was in a particularly foul mood. There was one moment that stood out of all those times Thorin had shown his very short temper and Bilbo had been on the receiving end of it. It had been barely just over a week earlier and Bilbo and Bofur were having a smoke outside of the fire’s light and talking about their homes when Fili and Kili approached. Somehow the conversation had veered off into a series of tasteless and lewd stories from the Shire and Erebor, Bilbo even bringing up the times she had caught a hobbit lad peeking in through her window while she changed, boys –and even a few lasses- attempting to steal a dance while the chaperones weren’t paying attention –a very scandalous practice-, and that time Bilbo had walked past a party tent, only to discover one of her Brandybuck cousins actually shagging a Sackeville lass between the tents. She was very thankful that she was no longer a tween with such hormone rages. Even when she was a tween she never felt the temptations the other hobbit lads and lasses seemed to succumb to.

Apparently one of Bofur’s jokes had gone too far and Thorin broke up their merriment, shooing his nephews off. Bofur had ducked out simply to avoid Thorin’s lectures, leaving Bilbo to suffer through the prince’s lectures.

He had been so furious that his voice wasn’t even above a growl.

The conversation had been “indecent”, “vulgar”, and “much too loud” and “could attract unwanted attention”, by the prince’s standards. But the worst was what he said directly about her.

“You’re a distraction to my men because you are female.”

His words bothered her more than she let on. She had simply apologized and offered a very fake smile before heading off to bed. If there was one thing she hated more than anything, it was being objectified because she was a girl, because she was beautiful. She wanted to be recognized for traits and skills, not because she had breasts and a pretty face.

And she was still seething with rage about it when they arrived at Moria.

 

* * *

  

The Company found their way to the lowest depths of Moria, into a chamber with high pillars. Fire blazed deeper in the cavern, but a single pained roar from the Balrog and a mighty crash and the flames dissipated.

A figure with a pointy grey hat emerged from behind a pillar deep in the hall, turning to face the dwarves, who were still stuck on the stairs.

“Ah! There you all are!”

“Gandalf! What of Miss Baggins?” Thorin called to the wizard as they began to make their way to their long-missing wizard.

“Bilbo? Is she not with you?”

“She fell through a weak spot in the floor and fell down here with the Balrog,” Dwalin explained.

They had gotten close enough to the wizard so that shouting was no longer needed and they could all see how angry Gandalf was behind his stoic expression.

The wizard turned abruptly and went to the nearest and largest pile of rubble around the base of a fallen pillar. The dwarves hurried to follow, diving in to search the pile and the others nearby.

“Uh-uh… Uncle… There’s a lotta blood and a hole in the rock…” Kili squeaked out, his eyes wide as a Man’s dinner plates, his face very pale.

Thorin and Gandalf went to him and saw several large pieces of rubble had been moved and something –they didn’t want to name it- had pulled whatever was inside –they didn’t want to think about it- free. But Kili was right about the blood. There was quite a bit pooled inside the pocket, along with what looked like Bilbo’s pack.

Bilbo Baggins had been taken.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry and not sorry about what I did to Bilbo. 
> 
> And I have a reason why I made Thorin realize he was in love with Bilbo before Bilbo falls for him. It's because I've read so many fics where Bilbo falls first and he has to go through all of this stuff and proving himself before Thorin finally comes around. So I thought, why not make Bilbo the oblivious one? And of course Thorin isn't gifted with speaking and he's a jealous little shit (that does not excuse him being a bit sexist).
> 
> And the comments I've been getting are killing me. You all are such sweethearts!
> 
> Okay. That's all. Bye-bye for now, my friends!


	6. It Has a Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and the Company continue their search of Moria for their lost burglar. And Bilbo comes face to face with her kidnapper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of your comments about the last chapter slayed me. 
> 
> And now questions will be answered! 
> 
> Things will happen! 
> 
> Thorin broods! 
> 
> Bilbo is still missing! 
> 
> Thorin broods some more!
> 
> But will our two favorite stupid idiots be reunited??
> 
> I dunno, you should probably read the chapter...

 

There were times in Bilbo’s youth that her parents would scold her for disappearing for hours without telling anyone. Sometimes she wouldn’t come back until several hours after dinner.

The worst was the year the Fell Winter took the Shire in its icy grip.

If she had known about the wolves, then maybe they would have been okay. If she had known how fast they could be, how sharp their fangs were, and how dark winter could be, then maybe, just maybe she would have handled that night so much better.

She had run off in the early evening to go find medicine for her mother, who had come down with a nasty cold that was made worse by the weather and the dwindling firewood supplies. Her father couldn’t make the trip, so Bilbo put on the heaviest coats they had and made the trek to Mayor of Hobbiton’s smial, banging on the red heavy wooden door until there was finally an answer. And within the hour she was running back to Bag End, medicine in hand. Only to find herself surrounded by enormous wolves. Seven monstrous creatures with foul, hot breath.

She was foolish, a silly little girl of eleven. She did not understand fully how much danger she was in, only that her mother wouldn’t get better unless she brought the medicine.

That was when one of the wolves attacked, latching its large teeth and nearly ripping her arm off at the shoulder. But before more damage could be done, a group of Rangers had come through the town, luring the wolves out of the hobbit village.

She lay on the ground until dawn, arm bleeding through the thick layers of coat and spilling out onto the ground. The Rangers had come back, one taking her home and fixing her up, then helping to take care of Belladonna. But in that time, lying on the ground and staring at the night sky, wondering if she was going to die out there in the cold because she had wanted to help her mother, she couldn’t help feel so small.

So small.

So scared.

So alone.

Completely surrounded by darkness.

Which is what she found herself returning to consciousness in, except this darkness was much heavier, smothering and suffocating. Opening her eyes made everything seem much darker than it had before. The air was foul with the smell of rot and blood. It made her stomach churn, but all she could do was gag and dry heave until the nausea passed. She couldn’t move off her back, as if something was restraining her to the cold stone.

She tried moving her arm, but it felt so heavy, unable to move because of whatever was keeping her unmoving. Pain shot through her when she tried moving the other, sending her head into a spiral of throbbing, stabbing pain. She vaguely remembered hitting her head at some point in her fall and she definitely remembered the bone sticking out of her right leg. A desperation and survival instinct had kicked in, but her injuries kept her from following through. Then there was the matter of being forced into stillness.

Huffing out a breath, she pulled her left arm, trying to remove it from the hard surface beneath her again, only to give up a few moments later with an exasperated sigh.

A sound echoed from somewhere nearby, sounding very much like a tiny stone falling and hitting the rock of the cavern. She wanted to scream, but the fear of the Balrog and whatever pulled her from the rocks kept her quiet. All she could do was let out a weak moan.

_Someone… Please…_

Resigning herself to being held longer, she closed her eyes and tried to conjure up the moment where she had been buried in rock. Luckily none of the debris had crushed her, only trapping her.

The heat from the Balrog’s attacks had dissipated, as if something had drawn its attention away. Her vision was blurred and she was seeing double, but whatever had decided to pull the Balrog away from where she was buried would surely come find her if she had the strength to shout or toss a bit of broken rock against the floor. But she had no strength, only fading vision and injuries she couldn’t feel anymore from the numbness seeping through her body like pipe weed smoke through her lungs –though she got in trouble with Bungo every occasion she tried to smoke.

_Weak and helpless._

Nausea set in again, this time with new purpose.

Maybe Thorin had been right about her all along…

_I’m going to die down here because I didn’t leave when I had the chance… They probably aren’t looking for me… Not that they could find me under all these rocks anyway…_

She remembered hearing the Balrog’s shrieks and roars move further away, the cavern outside of her rocky future tomb shaking and jolting as if an epic battle was taking place just outside.

She remembered hearing a scuffling noise.

The rocks by the foot of her damaged leg moved.

Something grabbed her and she screamed. She tried to fight as it pulled her, but once free of the rocks and it’s grip left her, she was met with a blow to the head and darkness.

Then she woke up in the smothering darkness. And all she could do was hope Gandalf came looking for her and found her, no matter what state she was in. That he would take her home to her parents so she could forget about all this adventure business. It was stupid and childish for her to think that she could handle any of the things her mother had; she was a Baggins like her father and just because her mother was a Took didn’t mean she had any of her mother’s skills.

A Baggins was satisfied with the little things, all of those things being proper Hobbit things. Like gardening, having a pipe, cooking, reading books and being with family. And she had thrown all of that away to try and be like her mother. She wasn’t her mother, nor would she even compare to the famous and heroic Belladonna Took.

A tear slipped from the corner of her left eye, rolling down to her temple and getting lost in her probably messy braided hair. More tears fell after that, loneliness, sadness and fear taking over any other feelings.

* * *

 

Thorin felt the knot in his stomach tighten as the Company followed the trail of blood left behind by whatever drug Bilbo through the caverns. The streaks of red were steadily becoming thinner and thinner, but their burglar was still nowhere to be found and neither was her kidnapper. He swore to himself that the moment they found her kidnapper, he’d rip the creature to pieces and make it suffer for every pain Bilbo had suffered.

He would be merciless and cruel for anything that dared to harm any member of his Company. But for his love, the punishment would be tenfold.

The faint sound of a small rock hitting the stone floor almost made him jump. He was too tense, too wound up, and too ready for something to attack him.

What sounded like a moan hit him, barely there and so faint he thought he had imagined it.

“Did an’one else here tha?” Nori asked, stopping suddenly and looking around.

“I ‘eard it.”

“Same.”

“Sounded like moanin’.”

“Do ye think it was Bilbo?”

Thorin looked around a corner in the cavern, finding a fairly large rock sitting against the wall of stone. Spots of red led up to the rock and disappeared as the corridor divided into two directions. No longer listening to what the others were saying, he went to where the blood trail ended and studied the floor, but couldn’t determine which way Bilbo had been taken.

He wanted to find her so desperately.

He needed to find her.

The rest of the Company came to join him.

“Looks like we’ll hafta split up,” Dwalin grumbled.

The Company murmured agreements and divided into two groups.

A memory came to Thorin, something from the quest to reclaim Erebor he had forgotten. Maybe he was becoming senile in his age, but every memory was precious to him after seeing what gold-sickness could do to even the best men. He had seen first-hand how the sickness could make his bloodline forget even their most dear friends, blind them to their good intentions.

The Company, under his grandfather’s leadership, had split up after Smaug’s demise to search for the Arkenstone within the mountains of gold and jewels. Every bit of the priceless bounty of Erebor had been turned over and each passing hour Thorin saw more of his grandfather slip away, replaced by some foul creature. Still, they kept searching for the stone.

Belladonna had come to him on the third day of their search, seemingly alright after confronting Smaug alone only days earlier.

_“Thorin…”_

He stopped searching and turned to the hobbit, surprised she had actually spoken to him. She would tell him later that she regretted not making an effort to build on their companionship during the course of their adventure. _“What troubles you, Miss Took?”_

_“Your grandfather… He is under the impression that the few of us can withstand anything that comes our way as long as he gets the Arkenstone. But there is an army of Orcs and Goblins on their way here to claim the heads of all of your kin. The few of us cannot fight an army. And we are spread so far in the mountain looking for the stone, no one will be ready to face them when they come._

_“And the matter with the Elves and Men ready to break the gates down to get what is rightfully theirs… I fear if we do not act under deception then we will all die.”_

_“You’re right. My grandfather is too blinded by the sickness to see that all of our lives are in danger,”_ he had replied, straightening up, only to catch Belladonna’s eyes hinting in that way that meant she had a plan. _“What are you thinking?”_

_“I found the Arkenstone and I plan on using it to barter with the Elves and Men.”_

_“Barter with them? With the stone that’s destroying my grandfather’s mind a second-”_

_“If I could throw it into the depths of this mountain, never to be dug up again, I would. But right now, we have some angry Elves and Men at the door wanting payment. They’ll be able to help us if we offer them the stone. After the Orcs and Goblins are dealt with, we can pay them some other way and destroy the Arkenstone, or at least hide it so no one will be able to find it. We’ll die here otherwise…”_

Thorin thought for a moment, but in his heart he knew Belladonna was completely right. _“Then we have to meet with Bard and the tree-shagger…”_

Of course Thror had found out that the Arkenstone was in the hands of the Men and Elves. Thorin had tried to take responsibility, but the hobbit lass took the full blame, never letting Thror know his own grandson had betrayed him and went with her to give the stone away. Despite her attempts to explain things to the gold-sickness afflicted king, she was banished, thrown out of the mountain half alive and the Company was too fearful of Thror’s madness to help her.

Thror had forgotten the times he had shared stories with Belladonna, having a pipe together late in the evening hours on the journey, how he had offered her and her family a place in Erebor –should they desire to leave the Shire-, and how good of friends the two had become. All of those happy memories were lost to the sickness and wouldn’t come back until after the old dwarf woke up after the great battle. He wandered the camp and saw Oin speaking with several elven healers.

 _“Her injuries are severe and she may not survive the night. We will have to inform her next of kin,”_ one of the elves spoke softly. _“We’ve done all we can for now. It’s up to her will to live.”_

Oin nodded and thanked the elves before noticing his king standing several feet away. _“Your majesty, I wasn’t aware that you had woken up. Taking a mace in the jaw isn’t a kind thing to treat.”_

 _“What of our Company?”_ Thror asked.

_“Thorin, Frerin and Dis made it through with minor cuts and bruisings, ‘cept Thorin got his gut slashed open. He’s restin’ right now. Dwalin has a dislocated shoulder and a hefty chuck of his right side ripped out. Balin has a broken leg. Bofur also has minor injuries. Bifur took an axe to the head and we’re not sure if he’ll recover… Bombur took an arrow in the shoulder and is going through a cleanse to get the poison out. Dori and Nori are unscathed. Gloin is unconscious. And…”_

_“And what of our burglar?”_

_“Miss Baggins was banished from your mountain. Under your orders. It s’not my place to talk about her condition, or know about it.”_

_“I banished her?”_

_“For usin’ tha Arkenstone ta broker the Men an’ Elves into fightin’ with us.”_

_“Tell everyone that she is no longer banished and I want that Mahal forsaken stone destroyed. Now tell me the state of Belladonna.”_

Oin nodded and scratched his beard. _“She went into battle, against the King Tree-Shagger’s wishes. Held her own until she was run through by a blade in her belly. Tha Elves had been treatin’ her since they found ‘er. She isn’t well and hasn’t woken up. Caught Dis and Frerin tryin’ to sneak in to see her a couple’a times now.”_

Thorin only found out about what his grandfather had been doing after the battle shortly before he left to go to the Shire, his mind set on reclaiming Moria. He knew that his grandfather had made peace with the hobbit after she awoke. They were all relieved that she had survived, as there were too many close calls during her recovery for anyone’s comfort. But during that last night before Belladonna had left to return to the Shire, he had overheard her speaking with Dis in hushed voices, choked by sobs.

_“The Elves and Oin… They said I might not be able to have a child ever… I always had a dream of settling down eventually and having fauntlings of my own to chase about and scold… I told myself that this would be my last adventure and it is, even the adventure into motherhood is lost to me now…”_

So when thirty years later, he walked into Belladonna’s new smial, Bag End, to say he was shocked about seeing Belladonna as a wife and a mother was a gentle term to explain how he felt. And to have a very angry hobbit lass –in nothing but a robe, her hair wild and loose- storm past him with a frying pan and disappearing to bash in her cousin’s face, well that was equally surprising.

And it was Belladonna’s only child who had decided to go with the Company to Moria. He couldn’t have imagined what it was like for their hobbit -who was supposedly unable to have children because of her battle injuries- discover that she was with child and then watch the little girl grow up, after so much doubt about whether motherhood would be the next adventure for her.

It was.

And Daughter was very much like Mother. He could only hope that the daughter wouldn’t suffer as her mother had.

 

* * *

  

A scratching and dragging sound stirred Bilbo from her silent crying, making her very aware and her heart beat faster again.

She was so aware that she finally noticed what was holding her to the floor of the cavern.

Cold. 

Metal. 

Shackles. 

They were around her wrists and ankles. One was also clamping her to the floor by her neck. Even if she were able to slip her hands out of the shackles, there was the matter of her large feet, broken leg and the fact she couldn’t very well slip a neck restraint.

However, the realization of her confines was oddly comforting to her. The knowledge made her situation seem less obscure. Meaning that there was still a chance the Company could find her.

Well she was bleeding quite enough for a trail to be left behind, so they would be able to follow it unless they really were idiots.

The scratching and dragging had paused, as if sensing her awareness, but after a few moments it started moving closer.

A crunch of bone echoed through the dark chamber, coupled with the sound of chewing; wet and sloppy. Slurping, licking of flesh, and the stomach distressing sound of teeth cleaning flesh from bone.

Bilbo silently hoped that her limbs wouldn’t be next in the meal, but the thought brought thick bile up into her throat. Choking it back failed. She turned her head as far as she could and gagged, dry heaving until the nausea passed.

She didn’t notice the creature had stopped eating to watch her. But it wasn’t long after she had stopped that she felt the eyes on her.

A heavy wet _thunk_ came from across the chamber.

Whatever sort of creature it was was moving again, coming closer and closer to her until a pair of dark eyes appeared inches from her face.

A thin, calloused hand brushed against her neck, then moved to pat the floor where she had been dry heaving.

Bilbo couldn’t breathe she was so terrified, her whole body shaking as the creature circled her and seemingly checked her over. The smell of its breath, an odor of devoured flesh and all things rotten, consumed her senses, making her dizzy every time she tried to take a breath. It was poison to her fair lungs, so used to the fresh and crisp air of the Shire.

And as if it decided she was in proper health despite the disturbing noises, it slunk back to its dinner, wet crunching of bone filling the chamber moments later. 

 

* * *

 

She didn’t know how long she listened to the creature feast. Her thoughts were consumed between trying to keep herself from thinking that the feast was one of the Company, having gone off on their own, only to be caught by the foul beast and devoured, and repeating mantras over and over so she wouldn’t dry heave again and be subjected to the creature’s horrid breath and closeness. One moment she was aware that it was there with her, eating its fresh kill, then the next it was deathly quiet again, the smothering and strangling quiet that had begun driving her mad earlier.

_“Nasty foul dwarves, coming to steal my treasure..”_

The sudden voice nearly made her scream, her heart-rate through the roof again and blood rushing into her head too fast, sending her mind spinning again.

Concussion confirmed, amongst other injuries.

The creature’s steps returned to the room, bringing with it a strange light, that for a moment Bilbo thought was just her raving mind messing with her. But it wasn’t. The light was there and being brought in by the creature, whom she could see a vague outline of now. It was small and thin, lanky, but with an oddly proportioned head and thin bits of hair hanging from the crown and it’s chin. She couldn’t see much else, despite the creature bringing the light further into the room and setting it on a nest-like structure several feet from where she was lying.

Then it moved away.

And she discovered the objective of their quest.

Resting in the pile of tattered cloth and tapestry was the glowing, round sister-stone of the jewel of Erebor. The Arkenstone’s sister was right there, only a few feet away from her. It was so close, but in present circumstances, impossible to reach. But her mind reflected on what her mother had described the Arkenstone as; rounded and glowed blue and yellow light, a light that was too magnificent to describe, as if the stone was gifted to the dwarves of Erebor by the Valar themselves. But the stone before her was of red and yellow light, like a fire trapped within a sphere of glass. It looked incredibly fragile, but also as if it could withstand the forces of the Balrog and a dragon. It radiated such power and beauty, so much so that she could feel it tempting her, but it was fairly simple pushing it away. She was a hobbit and hobbits do not like big shiny gems.

But it was _there._

Oh would she have some gloating rights if she returned to the Company with it. But she’d let Thorin toss the silly rock to the endless darkness of the cavern. Maybe he’d be her pet for a day as a way of apologizing for doubting her. He could serve her tea and bring her food. Maybe even have him clean Bag End for her parents. It’d serve the pompous ass right.

But then there was the matter of getting out of the confines of the shackles and moving with her badly broken leg.

That was going to be tricky.

“Um…”

The creature’s dark eyes were on her in an instant, watching her curiously.

“C-could I get some water? Please?” she asked, her voice much weaker than she had thought it would be.

 _“It wants water… It dies without water…”_ It muttered to itself, crawling out of range of the light and disappearing out the exit.

She waited. Then she yanked her hands, much too small for the arm shackles to do any good, free and clawed at the one on her neck. The metal was coated in flaking rust. And it was so old that after a good bit of fighting it, the hinges on one side snapped free of the floor and she ripped the remaining metal off.

She set on working on the cuffs around her ankles, her stomach taking a sickening turn again as she accidentally brushed her elbow against the exposed bone jutting from her leg. But she pressed on, deft hobbit fingers working at the metal cuff on her injured leg’s ankle.

_“Water, it says, water.”_

A lump formed in her throat and her heart nearly stopped.

_“Glowing cave…”_

The sounds of the creature’s steps moved away from the chamber she was in, fading into the faintest of echoes until it was gone again. Bilbo quickly scrambled to free herself, the first ankle cuff falling off within several long minutes. She moved to the other, using her good leg’s strength to help loosen the restraint while she pulled on one side of the shackle. A good tug later and the shackle broke free, the momentum from her pull sending her back onto her back and knocking the wind out of her lungs.

But she didn’t have time to sit there and revel in her freedom.

Bilbo crawled over to the glowing stone, hoping to find a wall or something to help hoist herself up off the ground within it’s fiery light. Turns out there was, in the unpleasant form of more shackles hanging on the walls just above the stone. Getting to her feet proved difficult as her broken leg refused to support even the slightest bit of weight, but she managed, biting back pained moans as she put weight on it.

She could hear the creature approaching again, muttering something about dwarves and goblins and “it wanting filthy water”. She felt her side, taking a breath of relief at finding that Sting was still on her hip. The knowledge that she was armed made facing the wretched creature seem less horrible.

Her eyes went to the stone on the floor, still resting snugly in it’s nest of fabrics. The creature had cared for the stone quite a bit, it appeared. And now she had a use for the thing, rather than just destroying it immediately. Moving carefully, she scooped it up and held it to her chest, using her other arm to draw Sting. It’s blade did not glow blue, as it had done with the goblins, but she didn’t care what the thing was, as long as it stayed away from her so she could get back to her Company.

_“THIEF!”_

Bilbo moved just in time, dodging the lumbering, lanky creature’s attack, dragging her bad leg as she held the blade out in the direction of her assailant. Shuffling backwards proved difficult, but with the threat of a sword, the creature lurked in the shadows, waiting for her to drop her guard.

“Wha-What are you?” she asked, shaking the blade at the pasty, filthy thing hiding in the shadows.

_“It asked us what we is… It should tell us first.”_

“M-My name is Bella Underhill. I am a Hobbit of the Shire.” Bilbo answered, wagging the blade at the creature again. “Now you. Answer.”

The name she had given was an alias of her mother’s, used whenever she found herself in a particularly uncomfortable situation.

_“Hobbitses. Never tasted Hobbitses before…”_

“Answer the question!” she snapped, startling the creature.

She kept moving out of the chamber, the only light source being the glowing stone in her arms. _Keep stalling it, keep stalling it,_ her thoughts instructed.

_“We was dwarfish!”_

A dwarf? Or… what was a dwarf at one point. It certainly didn’t look like one anymore, except for the shadow of a large nose and bits of hair here and there that wouldn’t be found on a hobbit or an elf.

“Why did you kidnap me?”

_“Kidnap? Oh we do no such thing. We keeps hobbitses safe.”_

“Safe? Safe from what?”

_“Dwarfses, goblinses, Durin’s Bane.”_

She stopped hobbling, staring at the once-dwarf only a few feet away from her. “Durin’s Bane… The Balrog. Can you take me back to that chamber? I’d very much like to get back to my friends.”

_“Yes, yes. If- IF we gets the precious back.”_

Bilbo glanced at the stone pressed against her chest, it’s glow seeming brighter than it had before. And she understood everything.

The Arkenstone had driven Thorin’s grandfather mad. And this stone, the sister stone of Erebor’s crown jewel –that was no longer in a position to affect any of the royal family with it’s curse- had driven this dwarf mad, turning it into a shell of a being. This dwarf before her was only alive because this stone was keeping it alive, manipulating and pulling it further into insanity.

“Get me back to my friends and I’ll give the stone back to you, but no sooner. Understand?”

The dwarf nodded, eager to have its treasure returned.

“Lead the way and if you try anything, I will kill you.”

The creature appeared to gulp before it nodded and moved to lead the way.

_“This way, precious, this way!”_

  

* * *

 

_“This way, precious, this way!”_

Thorin froze, as did the part of the Company that had joined him when the group was forced to split up. The cracky, almost child-like voice breaking the eerie quiet that had been following them since the hunt for Bilbo started.

“Uncle…” Fili whispered, giving Thorin a worried look.

Thorin nodded, drawing his sword, Orcrist, and leading the group of five down the corridor.

The footsteps further in the tunnels came to a stop the moment they began to follow.

_“Nasty goblinses… Looking to eats us, precious. Come, come.”_

Dwalin looked outright offended to be called a goblin, but the group listened as the footsteps moved away, one pair sounding a bit heavier and was only one step, a dragging sound, and another step.

“It’s got an injured… Must be Bilbo,” Kili mumbled.

The group silently agreed and moved forward.

Minutes passed.

It felt like an eternity to Thorin, burdened with feeling how close his One was, but being unable to help her. She was so close, so close to being returned to him, but she was injured and in danger. He needed her safe; a desire that had been growing since she first disappeared.

There was a shriek and scuffling. Metal cutting into flesh, the follow-through scraping on the rock of the cavern.

_“MY PRECIOUS!”_

_“Leave. NOW.”_

The second voice was indisputably Bilbo’s. And Thorin was running in a heartbeat.

_“Stay back!”_

_“GIVE IT BACK. MY PRECIOUS!”_

A scream echoed to Thorin’s ears, but he knew it wasn’t Bilbo’s. Still, his feet moved faster under him as the sound of a body hitting the floor met him. He could hear Bilbo running away, but he couldn’t risk drawing the attention of goblins or any other foul being lurking in Moria’s darkened tunnels.

He could see fresh blood on the ground.

And then there was a heap of a sniveling creature in front of him, a bloody gash on its gut.

 _“It took the precious…”_ it whined pathetically, a coughing like sound escaping its mouth.

Thorin felt no pity for the creature. It had taken Bilbo and most-likely hurt her worse. He didn’t know what it had done to her, but it had given her a reason to hurt it. Bilbo wouldn’t hurt anything unless it was threatening to kill her. 

He felt no pity when his blade ended its miserable existence.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when this was a fluff story?? HA. 
> 
> Don't worry, though! I promise the feel-good cuddly business is on it's way.
> 
> Eventually.
> 
> As a side note, the creature that kidnapped Bilbo is like my version of Gollum. It was a dwarf so greatly consumed by the madness brought on by the stone that it became obsessed and stuff. It's been down there for a while. But if it wasn't clear, it tried to kill Bilbo and take the stone back, so Bilbo defended herself and ran off. It has a lot of the mannerisms Gollum has for that reason, since someone asked if Gollum was going to be in this story in some form. I've been calling it Cave Dude while I was plotting this chapter out, but it really doesn't have a name.
> 
> What was it planning to do with her? Food.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, as I said before the start of the chapter, I'm really loving your comments. So I really can't wait to see what you all will have to say about this chapter.
> 
> And I'm on tumblr! possiblyhobbits.tumblr.com 
> 
> I'll be busy for the next few weeks (thesis papers don't write themselves no matter how much you will them to). But I'll write and write and reward you for your patience with a one-shot (in this particular AU) and a new chapter. So if there's any like side characters you wanna see hanging out and getting into shenanigans or anything, just leave me a comment and when I start the one-shot I'll pick one and write it. Or I might pick two. Awesome-sauce right?
> 
> Right.
> 
> Okay, bye for now!


	7. Light in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company is finally reunited.

 

She didn’t remember collapsing, the adrenaline in her veins having given out on supplying her with the ability to move.

It was over and now all she could do was rest.

  

* * *

 

It seemed like an eternity since he had ended the creature’s life, an eternity since he started running again, blade tucked away and fueled by some force or another to keep moving forward.

She was so close.

He followed the thin trail of blood left behind, hoping that he would catch up to her soon, but the feeling in his heart told him she was still so far away. Too far for his comfort.

Thorin turned down a corner, only to come face to face with a small gap in the stone. There was a faint glow coming from the other side. He slipped through several tight-knit rocks and emerged into a large cavern, illuminated by strange rocks deep within an underground lake. But one particular spot on the edge of the lake was brighter than the rest of the room, blocked by a tiny shadowed form.

“Bilbo!”

He ran to her side, turning her on her back and taking her fragile, broken body in his arms, paying no mind to the glowing stone slipping out of her grip and into the lake.

“Bilbo…” he whispered, brushing her wet hair out of her face. His hand went to her neck, feeling around for a pulse. His eyes looked over her, making a note of the extent of her injuries. The broken leg appeared to be the worst and the reason for so much blood. He would have to bind it before he moved her. It was a miracle she had gotten so far on her own, but he should have figured that she would. Bilbo was his One after all and that meant she was strong in ways he couldn’t imagine.

A sigh escaped his lips, relief filling him. She was alive and breathing, but he needed to her to Oin right away. He wasn’t going to lose her now that he had her back.

“T-Thorin…”

He froze, only looking down at the hobbit in his arms after his name was said again.

Bilbo’s eyes were open, a weak version of her trademark smirk on her lips. “Told ya I’d find that silly rock…”

He couldn’t help but smile.

“Rest for a bit, then I’ll get you to Oin,” he said softly, almost tender. The tone and ease of which it came was something he could get used to using around her. He loved it and he loved her.

Bilbo smiled like she was dazed, breaking open the cut on her lip. “I can rest when this is over…”

“You’re going to be stubborn?”

“Yes, and so are you.”

He wanted to smile for her again, because of her again. But he couldn’t. Not while the guilt was pulling him under again. This was his fault. He should have kept a closer eye on her, kept her by his side, even if he wasn’t her One.

He barely registered that her expression was no longer happy or relieved. She was concerned.

“Thorin.”

“Thorin, look at me or I’ll pull your braids,” she paused, “well maybe. If I have the strength to move my arms. But don’t think I won’t do it later on.”

His eyes met hers and Bilbo’s chest felt pained, like something was squeezing her heart. It was unpleasant, unfamiliar, and she never, ever wanted to see him look at her like that or be filled with that pain again.

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for what happened. It’s no one’s fault, except maybe the shoddy floor I fell through, but it’s not yours or anyone in the Company’s fault.”

Thorin had been preparing a reply in his head, but Bilbo’s sudden movement threw him off. She was sitting up now, looking around for something.

“That bloody, stupid piece of rock…” she growled, a sound that sent a shock up Thorin’s spine. He thoroughly enjoyed that tone and added it to his mental list of Things He Wanted to See More of From Bilbo.

He shook himself out of the thought and frowned, following Bilbo’s gaze. “What rock?”

“The thing we came here to deal with, you silly tit. Big glowing hunk of junk. I had it… There!”

He followed where she was pointing to, his eyes falling on the glowing yellow and red stone resting in several feet of water. It was like pure fire trapped in glass and far more beautiful than the Arkenstone. The second he laid eyes on it, he worried that he would lose himself to its pull as his grandfather did when he saw the Arkenstone.

But he felt nothing. Nothing but rage that the stone had caused them all, especially Bilbo, so much pain.

“No one will find it down here… We’ll close the passage off. The whole level if need be…”

“Good… That… thing that I was relying on to get me back to you all was the result of the stone’s influence. It said it was a dwarf, but looked nothing of the sort.” She took a shaky breath. “I don’t want to see anyone else turn into something like that…”

Thorin nodded, turning his attention back to Bilbo. “Let’s get back to the others…”

She agreed and Thorin put one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees. “Hold on to me,” he mumbled, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. He was going to be carrying Bilbo, his One, bridal-style. She would be holding on to him, relying on him. Him! Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, Prince Under the Mountain! To be given such an opportunity was more than he could have ever hoped to ask for. What was it Dis had said about proving one’s worth to their One?

Showing your strength.

He had Bilbo in his arms, barely feeling the tiny hobbit lass’ weight, which was surprising since she ate more than anyone he had ever met, even more than her own mother. Her arms were loosely around his neck, not having the ability to hold on any tighter. He took careful steps, making sure not to jostle his injured love too much.

Oh how desperately he wanted to confess his heart to her, but he knew it was best to wait until she was better. Frerin and Dis used to tease him as child for being a romantic, but he never cared too much.

“Thorin…”

“Yes…?”

“What of the Balrog? What happened to it?”

“Gandalf slayed it while we were looking for you. There is no further danger here, but none of us wish to stay longer.” He stopped at the small crevice he and Bilbo had to squeeze through earlier. There was no way to get through while carrying her. “Ah… I’m going to have to let you down so we can get through…”

“It’s fine…”

Thorin set her down gently, making sure she put her weight on her good leg before he took her hand and helped her through the rocks. He couldn’t help but marvel at how soft her hand was, despite the fifty-thousand layers of dirt, grime, and blood covering it. It was small in his grip, but the feeling felt very right. Their hands were meant to be together like this, he could feel it in his soul.

His pining thoughts were distracted by Bilbo’s grip slackening and her breathing becoming heavy. Glancing over, he could see that she wasn’t well and her strength was fading. Still, they got through and she was back in Thorin’s arms again, finally taking a well deserved rest.

Within minutes, they were reunited with the entire Company. The group that hadn’t gone with Thorin had followed a tunnel that looped back around to where Thorin had run off to rescue Bilbo. And all were relieved to see the prince and the hobbit lass returning safe.

They moved back to the Balrog’s chamber and Oin set to working on Bilbo, under careful watch of Thorin.

“Tha most I can do with te supplies I ‘av isn’t enough to do more than preventing infections until we can get to Rivendell.”

Oin’s words churned Thorin’s stomach. His dislike of elves was long seeded in his mind after they refused to help the dwarves after Smaug took Erebor from them so long ago. All of the dwarves felt the same, but they also knew that Oin wouldn’t suggest it if there was another option.

“Then we move to Rivendell.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! The end of the Moria Arc!
> 
> Not even being half dead can keep Bilbo from being a sassy little shit.
> 
> Now the next chapter begins the second arc, one I've decided to call The Shire Arc. Yes! We are going back to the Shire to bring Bungo and Belladonna back into the mix, along with a few new faces. I promise more fluffy goodness for this arc!
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter will find the Company in Rivendell discussing their next move. 
> 
> (Edit: 7-3-14): Hey guys! So sorry about the two month wait for chapter eight, but it will be posted sometime today. I got caught up with work and my internet disappearing for almost a month.


	8. Reading into Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wakes up, Thorin continues to be an idiot, and Dwalin realizes he's in over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. It's been over two months since I last updated so... Excuses? Work, school, and internet not existing. 
> 
> This chapter is a bit skippy, but it does what I needed it to do.

 

 

Waking up was something Bilbo Baggins never thought she would hate doing. And it was something that she never thought would take so much effort.

The second her eyes opened fully, despite the need to suddenly squint because of the bright late-morning sunlight, she regretted the whole waking-up business.

Everything –and she was absolutely certain that truly meant everything- hurt. Not with the pain of her injuries, but pure stiffness of a body unwilling to move after lying still for so long. How long had she been there? Where was she?

Where was the Company?

  

He had saved her; carried her out of the glowing chamber and she had fallen unconscious before she could say anything to the prince. She really hadn’t appreciated being carried, but her body had quit on her. And there was something strangely comforting about the whole ordeal…

Thorin’s voice, attempting to comfort her –though his words were utterly lost to a memory under duress-, the steel-cage like strength and protection his arms offered, and how he looked genuinely torn when he saw her, alive but harmed. He couldn’t possibly have been… worried about her. Cared about her?

A blush paraded out onto her cheeks, completely unwelcome, at those thoughts and she pushed them away.

She chalked the entire situation up to him being responsible for her life –as Dwalin kindly informed her of several days after leaving Bree; part of an agreement made with Belladonna and Bungo- and stress. Anyone would be stressed if they were a prince forced to go into a long-abandoned homeland to destroy a stupid glowing stone and then discover that goblins and a Balrog and some other sort of creature was living in the caverns and a member of their Company had been lost to some unforeseen circumstance, all with the promise to bring home a bride weighing them down.

 

Definitely a stress-related issue.

Thorin Oakenshield was beyond simple mortal emotions.

Always some nonsense with the glory of his people and his duty as Prince of Erebor or some other nonsense.

If Thorin Oakenshield had any normal people feelings -that weren’t powered by his sense of duty or something- then she would be very shocked.

She wanted to laugh, but only coughs came out.

Her thoughts moved back to her scant memories of the caverns of Moria. She shuddered, thinking of the Balrog and the creature that had taken her, mostly the creature. She had escaped them both, but those victories felt hollow, like they really weren’t hers to claim.

Thorin came back to forefront of her thoughts, memories of him coming to find her, carrying her out of the cave, the expression she still couldn’t label on his face, all of them haunted her because of one unanswered question; why. Why had he come after her? Surely there were several others who were capable of coming to her rescue. So why did he come?

That odd clenching feeling returned to her chest, almost longing for something.

_No, no, absolutely not,_ she scolded herself, fearing what the pull was leading her thoughts to.

She was completely, one-hundred-percent, not smitten with Thorin Oakenshield.

 

* * *

 

  

The morning had been long and boring, plagued with worried thoughts about Bilbo, as had the prior mornings since they arrived in Rivendell nearly a fortnight ago.

Thorin sat alone in the grand library of Rivendell, as Ori was somewhere further in the ancient tomes and the rest of the Company turned their noses up at the prospect of distracted reading and reading in general in favor of starting some friendly competition with the elves. His choice of literature was a very thin volume on the Hobbit race, but the more he read the more he discovered he had learned all of the information from just interacting with two Hobbits.

Except…

He paused at a page with the heading labeled “The Language of Flowers”.

Curious, he read on.

 

_Hobbits, as a race, hold a high regard for flowers and their meanings. From what little the outside world knows of Hobbits, they use flowers to communicate things when they are unable to use words, mostly in such cases as deep affection and courting, as well as in the case of apologizing to another when they are wronged._

_When using flowers to communicate, each flower itself has a unique meaning and thus varied by the color of the bloom. The simplest example of this would be the red rose to symbolize love. But other colors of roses have different meanings varying from a “thank you” to secrets or hidden desire._

_The Hobbits’ use of the flower language seems universal amongst their people, with most smials holding at least one guide to flowers on their bookshelves. Though most seem to know the more commonly used flowers and colors by heart, others may have to look up meanings for less used flowers._

Thorin stopped reading.

His heart was racing and he finally had an idea to tell Bilbo the feelings in his heart.

He just needed to find a flower-meaning book.

And a garden.

There were tons of those in Rivendell. It would be easy!

 

* * *

 

Bilbo Baggins had never thought too much on the concept of love other than wanting absolutely nothing to do with it. 

When she was a fauntling, she wanted the sort of marriage her parents had; slightly dysfunctional due to Belladonna’s interest in adventures and being a Tookish lass clashing so wonderfully with Bungo’s pure Baggins heart and soul, but it was nonetheless a beautiful thing to witness as a child. Bungo was Belladonna’s air, and she was his, and little Bilbo wanted nothing more than to have someone who would be her air, the home she could come home to.

But she learned that the kind of love Bungo and Belladonna shared was something she could never have, all because hobbits were very invasive. There was much bickering and arguing among the suitors and their families, especially in the first years of her tweenhood when her beauty became desired. On several occasions before her eighteenth birthday, her suitors would hound her at the market or when she took to gardening. And when she began avoiding them, the bouquets began appearing at her doorstep.

The idea of finding the kind of love her parents had was pushed away, replaced with a bitter resentment to anyone who expressed romantic intentions toward her or implied that she should marry so-and-so’s relation because said relation was “the best possible option” for a hobbit lass of her beauty.

A few were dissuaded because of her increasingly un-hobbitish manners and personality. One angry parent had told Bungo in a very tense meeting at the market that all her beauty went into her looks and there was none left over to fix her grotesque personality. The more arduous suitors had continued their houndings, until finally she snapped.

_“I would sooner shave my feet than marry any of you terrible excuses for hobbits!”_

One of her cousins had groaned, putting her face in her hand and shaking her head, but Bilbo never paid any mind. She simply stomped off back home, completely forgetting her shopping.

She had never been in love before, never felt for anyone other than her family. So this feeling in her chest whenever her thoughts flipped back over to a certain dwarf prince disturbed her. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to feel it.

 

While Bilbo had been lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed the elf that entered the room she was resting in.

“It’s good to see you awake, Bella Baggins.”

Bilbo jumped, her breath catching in her throat.

The elf’s eyes widened, like he was shocked. “I apologize. It was not my intention to frighten you.”

Bilbo shook her head, “It’s quite alright. I really shouldn’t have gotten lost in my thoughts like that…”

“Were you trying to recall the events of Moria?”

She nodded and pushed herself so she was sitting up properly. “Y-Yes… Much of it is a mess in my head right now.” Lying was probably a better option than admitting to an elf that she was suffering from the final blows of tweenhood angst and wanted to tell that certain dwarf prince to stop making her feel things.

“It’s not surprising, as you sustained a concussion among your various injuries. But not to fear, you will be up and moving in a few days time.”

“Ah-That’s wonderful news to hear. Thank you, uh-”

“I am Elrond,” the elf spoke with a small, but kind smile.

 

* * *

 

  

When Thorin entered the dining room for breakfast, the four dwarves currently in the room gave him space. The future king looked angry and slightly dirty and no one dared ask him why.

The silence filling the room was suddenly breached by Dwalin’s arrival.

“I bested five of those girly elves in practice this mornin’!” he grunted proudly, dropping into the chair next to Thorin.

Ori, Kili, Fili and Bofur all stared horrified at Dwalin, mouths agap and eyes wider than the tall-folk sized plates.

Dwalin immediately stopped retelling the morning’s events and scowled at the others. “What?”

Ori shook his head and gave the larger dwarf the “don’t you dare ask” look.

They ate in silence for several minutes, well except for Thorin –who was in the middle of a grand pout-, until Dwalin finally asked Thorin what was on his mind, much to the dismay of the others.

Thorin lifted his gaze from the very interesting wood grains of the table and glared at his best friend. “Flowers are vile and deceitful.”

“Why are ye messing with th’ things anyway, ” Bofur asked.

The dwarf prince suddenly found the grains in the table to far more interesting than maintaining the conversation. He was most certainly not going to reveal is plan to court Bilbo to his rival. Bofur was not taking this lead he had worked so hard to find.

 

It wasn’t much later that Dwalin found Ori. And by found, he actually walked into the small dwarf.

“Oh! Mister Dwalin! I-I’m so sorry for walking into you!” Ori peeped, looking somewhere between scared shitless and wanting to puke all over Dwalin’s feet from nerves.

“’tis alright, lad. T’was my fault,” Dwalin replied, staring down at the scribe’s wide brown eyes.

He watched Ori’s mouth move, but he didn’t hear a word the young dwarf said, only noticing that he was gone as quickly as he came, leaving Dwalin feeling confused and with a strange pull in his heart.

And…

Dwalin turned to watch Ori hurry back to the library, watching his braids move as he disappeared down another hallway. The absence of the scribe left his chest feeling heavy and he knew.

 

* * *

 

  

Bilbo laughed lightly, enjoying the company of Lord Elrond probably too much. She wasn’t sure if the whole Dwarf-Elf hate thing was still going on, but she assumed it must have not been too serious if the Company was welcomed here and let them stay for so long.

The elf excused himself after a few more minutes, opening the door to leave and stopping short.

“It seems you have yourself an admirer, Miss Baggins,” Elrond mused, picking up something off the floor and bringing her a small bouquet of flowers. It seemed like whoever put them together wasn’t too sure of what they were doing as the flowers had clumps of dirt hanging from their roots and the clippings were sloppy.

Bilbo took the flowers from the elf and studied them.

_Blue Camellas, the fire in my heart._

_Gardenias, a secret love._

_Eucharis, maidenly charms._

_Pink roses, admiration._

_Yellow roses, friendship and happiness._

Bilbo couldn’t hold back the fierce blush forming on her cheeks. She didn’t notice Elrond leave and return with a vase of water and some small scissors.

“For your flowers,” he said softly, almost amused by the now flustered hobbit lass.

She nodded and set to work, carefully trimming the flowers and stems one by one, her thoughts completely occupied by who could have left her such a bold gift. It was so different from the flowers left for her by suitors in the Shire. Those only forced the “love” meanings, but this hinted at feelings deeper than lust. She couldn’t deny that she wasn’t interested in who left her such a sweet collection of flowers.

When she finished, she handed the scissors back to Elrond and smiled happily. And even after he left, Bilbo was still smiling at the vase of flowers.

But a sting in her heart made her smile fade.

That denial of feelings for a certain stubborn dwarf prince was pushing their way to the front of her mind and heart. She was certain that he would never leave her something like flowers if he did have feelings for her. Being a pompous princely pretty boy, he’d probably announce their engagement without even asking her. But that was all theoretical since she was a firm believer in the whole “Thorin Oakenshield does not have mortal feelings” thing.

So then who could have left the flowers? And did they even know the implications of such an action? That giving someone flowers was effectively asking to court them?

But who would want to court her?

She bit her lip. It was customary to give a reply to a courting offer, but if she didn’t know who it was then she couldn’t reply. So she would wait until her suitor revealed themselves.

 

* * *

 

  

At dinner, the whole company was gathered, chowing down in true dwarvish fashion. And that was the scene Bilbo walked in on; Fili and Kili throwing food into each other’s mouths from across the table, Bofur’s lewd drinking songs, Bombur stealing food from other dwarves’ plates, Dwalin being strangely quiet with Ori reading a book across the table from him, Dori mother-henning Ori and shielding him from flying food, Nori flashing a bit of something shiny he had looted earlier, Gloin and Oin yelling at each other trying to have a conversation, Balin talking quietly with Thorin, and Bifur pretending the rest of the chaos wasn’t happening. And all of them stopped what they were doing when Bilbo walked into the room, giving her friends bright smiles, despite having to lean on a cane while her leg was healing.

“Bilbo!” Fili and Kili shouted, running over to hug their favorite hobbit.

“Give the lass some room you two! She’s ‘ad enough trauma already!” Balin chided.

The boys backed off and helped her to the table, loading her plate up with food before plopping down in chairs next to her.

The table was silent until Bilbo started eating, as if her eating habits would reassure them of her health. Only Balin was noticing something else that had changed since the hobbit’s arrival.

Thorin was watching her carefully, as if he was looking for something else.

“So I take it that we’re to head back to Erebor?” Dori asked.

“Well we still got the other part of our mission; finding Thorin a bride,” Gloin answered, bits of food flying from his mouth as he spoke.

Thorin turned pink at the mention of his other quest. He already found who he wanted for his bride, but now it was to get her to see that he cared and wanted her to stay by his side until the stone and earth reclaimed them both.

“We also got ta take Miss Baggins home, as we promised ‘er mum and da,” Dwalin added, seeming to slip away from whatever was preoccupying his thoughts.

“Let’s go to the Shire!” Kili said, jumping up from his seat to Bilbo’s right.

“’nd find Thorin a hobbit bride?” Nori asked, completely ignoring the sounds of Bilbo choking on her food and Thorin awkwardly coughing. The rest of the table seemed to have ignored or pretended not to hear the hobbit and the prince.

“Thorin, what do you think?” Balin asked, turning to the prince.

From behind his hand that was now covering up a slight blush, Thorin nodded, “We will go to the Shire.” He paused, glancing at Bilbo briefly, before looking away too quickly to seem casual, “If Miss Baggins is fit to travel, of course…”

The table turned their attention to the hobbit, who’s mouth was currently filled with a forkful of green vegetables that none of the dwarves would dare eat. She blinked a few times, then finished chewing and swallowing before finally opening her mouth to speak. “Lord Elrond said I should be fine in a day or two, but I need to take it easy on my leg.”

The group agreed on the matter and went back to eating, leaving Bilbo to think more about the mystery suitor and the flowers they had left. And in that time Thorin was thinking similar thoughts, wondering if Bilbo had liked the flowers he had nearly died getting for her. Who knew that flowers had thorns that would burrow into your skin when you tried to cut a bloom? And the roots. The roots were the worst part. Some of the flowers had such thick roots that he had to uproot the entire plant, but hopefully Bilbo didn’t mind.

And he hoped the elves wouldn’t mind that he looted two books from the library.

Not looted per say, he intended to bring them back when they stopped back in Rivendell on their way back to Erebor.

A long-term borrowing. That the elves wouldn’t know about right away.

 

* * *

 

  

Morning came and Bilbo found another bouquet on her way to breakfast.

It was only a small handful of blooms, but it was the meaning that struck her.

_White Heather, protection._

A deep blush formed on her cheeks as she picked the flowers up and held them to her chest, looking around for whoever left them, but there was no one. Inhaling the scent of the flowers, she went to find a vase to put her new flowers in before heading to breakfast.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be updating regularly (once every other week) depending on my days off from work and what's going on in my personal life. And I was actually going to post this last night, but thunderstorms are awful (I lie. I really love storms, but not when they kill the power).
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr! ( possiblyhobbits.tumblr.com )
> 
> See you guys soon and I promise to try and respond to your messages and comments.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is 100% un-beta'd. Thank you for reading! :)


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